


The Bleeding Heart

by lapenserosa



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-02
Updated: 2012-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:17:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapenserosa/pseuds/lapenserosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Reid receives a letter from Nathan Harris who is due to be released from psychiatric care. Will Dr. Reid find Nathan before he finds the team or a fresh crop of victims?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Dear Dr. Reid,_

_I really hope this gets to you in time._

_I don't want you to be worried about me or afraid. I don't have any of those thoughts anymore. Now all I have are the headaches. I remember when I first got here and started on the mystical cocktail of drugs that they doled out every four to six hours in those odd paper cups, after a week of that the girls just kind of disappeared from my mind. After a few months of empty-headedness I would purposely try to recall the most disturbing scenarios, the ones that were sure to make my palms sweat and my toes curl, and I would feel nothing. I couldn't see the whores, the crime scenes, or the cuts drooling with blood onto my hands. Instead just a blinding headache that would start as an ache behind my eyes, the generation of the idea, I guess, and then it would work its way all around my head until it felt like the medication was trying to squeeze the badness from my mind._

_Don't get me wrong, I don't want them to come back but it feels strange. Do you know what it's like to have something there but know that you can't get at it? I feel like all of those thoughts and desires are just sitting back there behind this sterile white sheet of medication. I've gotten used to the uncontrollable and random squinting and pulls at my lips when I least expect it. I'm sure you know the technical name for all of the things I'm experiencing. You're so intelligent but so kind – I remember that about meeting you. I remember your eyes, your kind green eyes, hovering over me as I felt the warmth of unconsciousness threaten to over take me. I know they say that you go cold when you die but it doesn't feel that way or at least it didn't for me. I felt relieved. When I was younger I would have probably stopped this letter, laid down on my bed, and continued to think about that – about ushering a woman into death. I would imagine my hands warm and wet with her blood. Now it just makes the back of my eyes begin to ache. Sometimes I even wonder why these never ending headaches don't make me angry but then those thoughts are just ushered behind the sterile barrier. I can't even be angry about my own pain, Dr. Reid._

_You know it's hard to even write these lines to you? I'm sure you don't mind reading them. You see so much worse on a daily basis. I've read those criminology books and I know you have too so this doesn't shock you. Do you ever worry that you'll find a crime that doesn't disturb you as much as any of the other have, that this one might actually appeal to you? I'm sure it wouldn't. Then again neither one of us looks like we could hurt someone, do we? Just two timid kids. You're so lucky to have Jason Gideon as a coworker, he seemed nice. It must be comforting to be around someone like that who can make sense of these things so simply and easily._

_I never expected you to write me back. Part of me wonders if you get these at all –if they even leave the grounds. Maybe they're just keeping them all on file so in the next two weeks when I come up for release they will roll all of these out as evidence of how I should stay here. I don't want to stay here. I want to see you again, Dr. Reid. My evaluation begins next week and if I pass, my release could be as soon as the end of the month. I'd like to think that you'll be there when they make their decision and I walk out the front door. I can't imagine much that makes me happy these days but one thought that does seem to make it through the sterile white barrier that these pills create is you in a clean white shirt and tie, clutching that leather bag of yours, and welcoming me with open arms._

_I really don't mind that you haven't written me back but I would like to see you at the end of the month no matter what their decision is. Would you come see me? My mom stopped visiting me awhile ago – she says I don't look like me anymore. I know I've gained weight, my skin isn't what it was, and obviously I am older, but I can tell that looking at me is difficult for her. Maybe I look more like who I imagined I would be so many years ago. Maybe I look like a killer._

_You helped me before, Dr. Reid and I know you don't owe me anything but I hope that you could save me again – this time from the sterile loneliness and gnawing boredom that consumes this place. You're the only one I write for anymore, you know that? I don't write anymore because it makes my head hurt. I don't miss it but that's probably because the drugs won't let me. You seem to be the only thing that the drugs will let me miss._

_Yours,_

_Nathan Harris_

It took Dr. Spencer Reid moments to read Nathan's letter but nonetheless he went over it several more time before picking up the original envelope it had come in. The postmark was exactly ten weeks ago, it had bounced around the institution where Nathan had been held , before finding its way to the general address for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and then filtered its way through security, the mailroom, and interoffice mail before arriving at Dr. Reid's desk in the BAU. The letter sat unacknowledged on Dr. Reid's desk, hidden under a stack of case files that Morgan had surreptitiously passed onto him over the span of a week and a half.

Dr. Reid stared at the letter wondering where Nathan Harris was now. From the letter it was reasonable to assume that he hadn't moved back home to be with his mother, between those few lines lay a history of disappointment with its generation point traceable to right there in the BAU. Reid could almost see him standing there in front of his desk with those wide eyes and rumpled clothes. He'd been given a man's responsibility, according to his mother, and that somehow justified her unwillingness to raise him the rest of the way. Reid knew that his sore spot over neglectful and isolating parents was a large excruciating one but that didn't stop him from getting angry at the thought of Nathan left to his own devices.

Gideon had shared the notes from his interview with Nathan so Reid knew all about Nathan's confessions; the dead bird, the girls, the forensic texts, and the self-accusatory suspicions. Reid also knew something that no one else on the team could really seem to understand – Nathan did not want what seemed to be the eventuality. Nathan did not want to be a murderer. He'd pleaded with Reid to let him die that night in the motel and Reid wondered for months if he had made the right decision in not honoring his wishes. He'd thought of Nathan the most when Gideon had made the decision to leave. Reid had wondered if Frank had ever feared what he was becoming – if he did Reid knew his bravado would keep him from admitting to it. No, Reid thought, Nathan felt far too deeply to be someone like Frank.

The postmark on the envelope had come from upstate New York where Nathan had been transferred for long term care after he failed his ninety day evaluation. Under the law, Nathan could only be held until he was eighteen unless he was committed again as a danger to himself or others or if he voluntarily sought treatment. Reid hoped that the latter would prevail – maybe the same fearful Nathan was still there through the ticks and the drugs and maybe that version of Nathan would fight to keep him from others.

Dr. Reid tucked the letter into his bag. He wouldn't ask Garcia for help just yet. He would wait a few days and try to contact the institution himself – if his worries were for not he didn't want to bring the team's attention to himself. He didn't want the patronizing tone of Aaron Hotchner or the patent lack of understanding that seemed inherent to Derek Morgan. Morgan could understand killers but he did not posses empathy in the way that Gideon had spoken of it. Morgan was determined to paint them all as bad guys no matter their history.

For those reasons alone, Reid knew that any inquiries into Nathan's whereabouts would have to be done on his own time.


	2. Chapter 2

Nathan stared at the crumbling paint, dirty white walls, and stained ceiling and shook his head at the idea that his 'home' away from the institution was more dismal than the institution had ever hoped of being. The hospital's answer to what to do with newly released patients was to house them in a dormitory-style apartment building in a lousy part of New York City with a smattering of other newly released convicts and other former 'patients.' Even with the added bulk and extra height, Nathan was still low man on the totem pole and had found himself shoved and jostled more times than he cared to count when he found himself in a 'group' setting. He hated the building and he hated his room. Well, to be completely truthful, he wanted to hate his settings but it just hurt where those thoughts of malice should be sitting.

During the day the residents had been given free rein to explore the city and ideally find a job from the colorful board posted downstairs by the check-in desk. Nathan didn't even need to feign an interest in job hunting to walk right out the front door in the morning and not return until the streetlights had come on.

Nathan hadn't forgotten how to dress like someone who didn't belong in the institution. Other than the occasional facial tics he could easily be mistaken for an awkward freshman – maybe someone in the sciences – that hadn't grown up in a big city and just looked like he was struggling not to look how lost that he actually felt.

In New York it was easy to meander and wander until you happened upon your destination. For Nathan his destination was the bookstore of the nearby university. Nathan had tried the university library but had found it locked down tighter than any institution he'd ever heard of. However, the bookstore was open and constantly filled to the brim with students. The bookstore was housed in an expansive complex that resembled a shopping mall for academia. Nathan loved it because there really never was a reason to leave with everything you could want to read or to eat was right there in one place. The first time that he walked into the bookstore he'd worried that it would be painted on his face, the fact that he didn't belong there and his true intentions for his visit. All this made his head ache and his lips and nose twitch nervously as he began to dwell on how much he didn't belong there.

As he strode toward his corner of the bookstore he took a deep breath and tried to imagine the most calming sight he could think of – Dr. Spencer Reid, sitting there amongst the shelves of books, smiling reassuringly, and beckoning him to take a seat next to him.

Nathan's hands began to shake as he reached out take the book from Dr. Reid's hands. Reid smiled at him reassuringly and spoke in that professor-like tone that Nathan remembered so well, "this is just like the case we worked in Florida," he would says turning to the middle of a large forensic pathology tome.

Dr. Reid would steady the book in Nathan's hands remembering his initial shock the first time he had opened the book and dropped it with a loud smack to the floor. Nathan had drawn too much attention to them at that point and the wise Dr. Reid would make sure that didn't happen again.

"I shouldn't be doing this," Nathan whispered, knowing that he was alone, but still seeing that kind smile of Dr. Reid urging him on.

"There is nothing wrong with reading, is there?" Dr. Reid said gently turning the page. "This one reminds me of you, of the case we worked when I met you."

Nathan let out a long and stuttered breath looking down the vivid black and white photograph that took up almost half of the page. It was a picture of a woman, really, what was left of a woman. Her upper thighs and pubic mound had been removed of their skin and deep cuts had been made to the remaining flesh on her abdomen.

Nathan stared at the photograph for what seemed like forever. His corner of the bookstore was empty so there was no one there to judge or register alarm at the unkempt young man in the corner. Then again it wasn't rare to see a broke student reading through an 'optional' text that they needed but could not afford for their paper that was due in the next few days.

He sat there staring, trying to feel Dr. Reid's hands on his as he turned reluctantly through the next few chapters of the book. "This doesn't bother you?" Nathan whispered looking out of the corner of his eye toward Dr. Reid.

"It's just a body, should it bother me? Does it bother you, Nathan?"

Nathan shook his head. "I-I-we should put it back," he said closing the book, ignoring Reid's efforts to keep it open. "I'll come back tomorrow, Doctor. My head hurts." Nathan said looking glumly at his feet. He knew Reid wasn't there but out of the corner of his eyes he could almost see him – he could almost feel his hands on Nathan's moving him through the pages of the book.

Out of guilt, Nathan's mother sent him a larger than necessary monthly allowance that made it easy for Nathan to put off the idea of taking a job. He had the means to bring the book home with him but his room was subject to random inspections and he knew the discovery of this book would earn him a one way ticket upstate.

Nathan left the bookstore and spent the rest of the daylight hours meandering around the city, stopping off at an internet café, and another generic bookstore before heading back home.

Later that night, as he stood in front of his bathroom mirror, he heard a crash down the hall. Instinctually, Nathan ran to his dorm room door, applied the safety chain, and the deadbolt. Though curiosity got the better of him and he stood at the door listening but he didn't need to listen too closely as a loud scream echoed down the hall.

"Fuck you and fuck this place! Do you know how much this fucking hurts? Well, do you! I don't think any of you goddamn doctors give a shit about what you do to us! You just lock us up out of sight, call us fucking crazy, and then do this fucked up shit to us. YOU DON'T CARE!"

Nathan unlocked his door, walked out of his room, and looked down the hall. At the end of the hallway, leaning up against the wall, stood a man that was in a position halfway between a cower and crouched attack. Nathan heard the front-desk staff and resident caseworker enter behind him.

At the beginning of the man's angry rant a few of the residents had cheered him on from behind their doors with a supportive, 'fuck yeah!' or 'preach it!' but as the man's ranting devolved into anguished cries and drawn out whines the calls from behind the other doors grew aggressive and threatening.

Nathan heard the caseworker talking to the staff member behind him – whispers about how the state required that they decrease or discontinue the medication periodically to assess the actually presence of the symptoms they were being treated for. Even through the protective barrier that the drugs formed around Nathan's brain these words registered at his very core – at some point, completely out of his control, the meds would go away and he would be at their mercy to prod and humiliate. None of the doctors had been as kind or forgiving as Agent Gideon who heard his awkward confessions with grace and understanding. The other doctors rarely tried to hide their disgust especially upon viewing Nathan's physical responses to the forbidden stimuli.

Before Nathan or the rest of the staff could register just what was happening, the distressed man took to his feet and shoved past the three of them and downstairs headed to the med pass station. As Nathan went back into his room he could hear the crying and scuffling from downstairs, "please, it hurts. I don't want it to come back. Please, make it stop."

That night when caseworker came around to do the med pass, Nathan opted to conceal the pills rather than to swallow them. All night he sat at his desk staring at the drug cocktail before him caught in a mix of terror and elation. Nathan was anxious to meet himself without the pills because maybe under this exterior he was normal, or in the very least, manageable. The idea that he could take the excess cash that he received every month and set out on his own filled him with the joy that every eighteen year old feels as they pack that last box for college.

Behind the excitement was the very real terror of it all. What if it really hurt as much as the distressed man had described? Nathan remembered the distressed man before he had his breakdown that night and he was far from weak or cowardly, which made Nathan worry. Could he handle the pain on his own without letting the caseworker know that he'd cheated? Those last thoughts almost got him to pop those pills several times over the span of the night.

Nathan lay curled up on his bed still intently watching the pills on his desk. Then instead of the colorful array of pills that lay across his desk all he could see was green. Calm green eyes, pleading with him to stay. 'Stay with me, Nathan.' He could see Dr. Reid's hands covered in his blood and he was shocked when the thoughts weren't calmly walked from his focus by the medication. For the first time in years, his mind allowed them to linger and linger they did as Nathan closed his eyes sighing at the feeling of Dr. Reid's warm, wet hands wrapped around his wrists.

The last thought Nathan had before sleep took him was the letter. He was sure Reid hadn't gotten it and that wasn't his fault anyway. If Dr. Reid knew he was free he would have come to find him just like he'd done before but it wasn't his fault that he didn't know.


	3. Chapter 3

It took Nathan less than twenty-four hours to feel the full effects of the withdrawal from his medications. Along with the blinding headache, the racing heart, the strange hallucinations and the inability to focus on anything, came the emotional side effects. It was as if every sorrow that he had ever felt had come back to be mourned in that short span of time. Nathan found himself overwhelmed with tears from everything to the loss of his father to the unfairness of a world that would subject someone to this pain against their will. Nathan couldn't believe that he was crying for the distressed asshole down the hall who, with his outburst two days ago, earned himself a trip back upstate.

Nathan knew that part of the job of the front desk staff and the caseworkers were to track your movements and daily care standards, if someone took a drastic dip in self-care or changed their routine too dramatically then they were automatically the focus of attention. Even though it caused him physical pain, Nathan knew that he had to leave and stay out just as he had done the previous weeks. He washed his face, did his best to clear up his bloodshot eyes, and fought the urge to give up on all of it and quickly tried to calculate how many days worth of pills he'd have to save up for it to be fatal. Nathan knew that last urge was why the residents weren't allowed to keep their own medication in their rooms; technically, they were still part of the 'at-risk' population.

"Nat, are you forgetting something?" Nathan turned to look at the front desk clerk – young, slight, soft brown hair, and big green eyes. She, Nathan thought, had the kind of skin, porcelain and clear, which would look so beautiful smeared with blood. The idea aroused him and made him want to cry all at the same time. This isn't why he stopped taking the medication – he just wanted some control. He picked up his identification card and left trying to shake the vivid images of the clerk from his mind.

The bookstore was fairly empty today with the exception of some younger looking students, all decked out in university clothing, who seemed to be waiting for someone to call them on the class they were undoubtedly skipping.

Feelings of regret and anger began to roll through Nathan's mind without control. He felt cheated by his mother who refused to see how much he hurt and for how long. He hated her for abandoning him just because he had changed. He knew that he would grow into this eventually, how did she not know? He thought of how she seemed so relieved never to be at home.

She knew she'd have to see me more once I graduated, he thought, locking me up made sense that way she'd have an excuse to continue to avoid me.

Hot tears of self-pity rolled down Nathan's cheeks as he looked through the shelves of books for large hardback Forensic Pathology book that held him transfixed every time he had visited the bookstore. Every day was like a test, would he feel dull and unaffected by the photos or would those old feelings come back?

This time it was different. Nathan looked over his shoulder like a kid in a 7-11 taking a peek at his first Playboy magazine – terrified of getting caught. Nathan quickly wiped the tears from his face as he continue to leaf through the pages of the book, trying to appear casual but his hand shook like a leaf.

"Like my colleague said, 'it's perfectly natural for a boy your age to be curious about these things,' why are you shaking, Nathan?" It was Dr. Reid's high-pitch whisper. "You know you're not really capable of this," the doctor said turning the page to the infamous crime scene photo of Mary Kelly with the other page a color version of a near copycat. "You can't even talk to a woman let alone touch her. Most serial killers need space to carry out this kind of thing, are you afraid that you'd try to bring her back to your psych dorm and try to flay her there? Do you even think she'd get up to the front door with you?" Dr. Reid said with a chuckle in his voice. "The scariest thing you could do to a woman would be to show her that comic book of yours." Nathan smiled timidly at the doctor's remarks.

Nathan wouldn't even look at the book directly – he'd kept a printout of Mary Kelly's photo in the back of the magazine that he was certain pushed his mother to agree to his confinement. It had been years since he'd felt this kind of reaction to anything let alone this kind of site. He knew this idea should scare him but most of his brain couldn't be bothered to really care. "You're a doctor working for the FBI so you must be right, right?" he said whispering to the very vivid image of Reid standing to his left.

A day ago he felt embarrassed acknowledging Dr. Reid because the nagging in the back of his mind that this was just a figment of his very lonely imagination was too loud to ignore. Nathan played along then because it felt good. Today Nathan played along because Dr. Reid looked to be completely present, real flesh and blood.

"You don't think I could do this?" Nathan said allowing himself the first lingering gaze at Mary Kelly. "It's what she wanted, isn't it? She got paid for letting people use her body so if he paid her enough – well, it isn't like she would ever have lived a better life. Do you ever have someone who killed people because they made them sick?"

"Some think that was Jack the Rippers breaking point was that he had begun suffering the effects of syphilis and blamed the prostitutes for it. Killers usually have a type and that's how we catch them."

"Victimology," Nathan muttered. "I know. Do you think I have a type?"

"Sandy blonde hair and green eyes?" Dr. Reid said walking in front of Nathan, kneeling down, and placing his hands on either side of the book and Nathan's legs. Nathan shifted uncomfortably and smiled.

"Why do you think you deserve to die?" Nathan asked without a hint of malice to his voice, sounding more like the frightened young kid from several years ago.

"I think you should buy the book, Nathan. " Dr. Reid said running his hands up the outside of Nathan's thighs. Reid leaned closer and whispered, "but you may want to compose yourself first."

Nathan bought the book and began his walk home. The sharp pains in his head had become intermittent, the shaking in his hands had lessened, but the rush of emotions still hit him unexpectedly like waves battering a shoreline.

Before heading home Nathan made several stops along the way; a donut shop, smoke shop, and an adult bookstore.

"Bring enough to share with everybody, Nat?" Called the small brown-haired clerk as Nathan walked through the door holding nothing but a pink pastry box.

Nathan just chuckled and smiled at the clerk. "What do you like?"

"Oh I don't know. A cheese danish?" She said looking hopefully at the box.

Nathan made a face of disgust and then smiled apologetically at the young clerk. "Next time."

"I'm holding you to that, Nat." She said with a giggle and then set back into her reading.

Nathan fought to keep his feet in check, he wanted to bound up the flight of stair to his room and slam the door closed to revel in his deception but he knew they would be looking for that kind of manic behavior.

Once he had closed and secured his bedroom door, Nathan practically skipped as he went to his desk and upended the pink donut box onto his desk; out fell two smashed donuts, the university book still in its plastic bag, magazines from the adult bookstore in a paper bag which was now stained with sugar, and another smaller item wrapped in paper bag. Nathan picked up the last item like it was a precious artifact. He unwrapped it carefully and stared at it like a believer seeing the Light.

It had been a tough choice as he stood at the head shop counter surrounded by hookahs, psychedelic posters, gas masks turned into bongs, and random survivalist gear. Toward the back of the shop was a glass case of knives, fancy butane lighters, and a few items that Nathan could not identify. He asked the shopkeeper to see the largest knife with its faux blue abalone handle. Without question the shopkeeper smiled, removed the knife, and pressed a small switch causing the blade to extend – a beautiful four inches of serrated metal. Nathan took it with little discussion.

He could almost feel the doctor whispering in his ear, "Alcoholics sometimes keep the bottle they refused to finish hidden somewhere in the house to remind them of the temptation that they've faced down. This is your temptation, it's what you are refusing to complete, there's no harm in keeping it nearby."

Nathan nodded but could not resist the urge to flick the long blade open and closed several times. The opening and closing of the blade served as a soothing metronome as he leafed through his new purchases unafraid of the next room search. Nathan would be gone before it mattered.


	4. Chapter 4

"Break out the guidebooks, Pretty Boy! We've got a case in the Big Apple - briefing in the conference room in ten!" Morgan slapped a manila case file on Dr. Spencer Reid's desk and sauntered off to distribute the information to the rest of the team.

Reid had been staring at an unopened envelope on his desk for the last few minutes. He knew by the handwriting that it was from Nathan. He probably hadn't been released or had recommitted himself out of the fear of what would happen if he didn't continue to receive help. Reid knew that Nathan's loss of his mother would probably only add to his confusion and frustration but Nathan was in a place where he could work through that, right? His letter was so heartbreakingly lonely. Even if Nathan's letter had taken on an undertone of desire, well, wasn't that better than his earlier fantasies? Reid was sure that his affections were the product of isolation. Reid had been the last person to show him the kind of attention and affection that he had missed from a father and a mother. Nathan's attraction was understandable and that was really where Reid preferred to leave it.

"Each victim was found in a weekly SRO or Single Room Occupancy hotel. The first victim, Mariah Thomas, was sixteen and a recent runaway from Philadelphia – she was found with multiple stab wounds to the abdomen, a severed jugular, and other superficial stab wounds on her arms and legs. The second victim, Vanessa Drake, nineteen, was found in a nearby SRO with similar wounds with the exception being that strangulation was the cause of death. The third victim, Kathleen Davisson, nineteen, was found in the same SRO as Drake but one floor down. Davisson was also killed by deep laceration to her jugular with similar superficial cuts as the first two women. "JJ said flipping through the photos displayed on a large screen in front of the team as Penelope Garcia distributed corresponding photographs.

Rossi spoke first, "Do we have any other reason to assume that these cases are related?"

Garcia looked hastily at JJ before dropping the rest of the photos on the conference table and practically sprinting from the room.

JJ cleared her throat and looked apologetically at the team, "Each victim appears to have been repeatedly sexually assaulted by the UnSub, these assaults occurred both post and ante-mortem with the implement in the ante-mortem attack being the UnSub's knife."

Derek Morgan looked down at the manila file folder and swore silently as he glanced through the victim's photographs, "He appears to leave their faces remarkably untouched. How long are we thinking that he spent with each victim?"

"Each victim's estimated T.O.D. was around 72 hours before they were found." JJ said fighting to keep the grimace from her face.

Hotch flipped through the pictures quickly as he spoke, not looking up, "Consistent victimology? All of these women reported as missing persons? Did our UnSub take anything?"

"All of the women with the exception of Davisson had a missing persons out for them," JJ looked away delivered the next piece of news to the conference table rather than look the teammates in the face. "With each body he made increasingly successful attempts at removing skin in or around the victim's pubic area."

"He seems to be keeping fairly steady pacing between each kill. This one is patient. Have we had hits in any other state with the same M.O.?" Reid interjected.

"Garcia is on it. I'll have an update for you on the plane."

"Wheels up in thirty," Hotch said in an even tone. As the agents filed out of the conference room he noticed Reid's uncharacteristic look of intensity and caught him by the arm, "Reid we may be going out to dinner again so pack a fork."

Reid wanted to respond that after that briefing eating was the farthest thing from his mind but any witty retort was blocked by the letter burning a hole in his messenger bag, begging to be opened.

Once the team hit the ground in New York it wasn't long before their tasks were divided and each member of the team was off to their respective point of research; Rossi and Reid went on the circuit of the three crime scenes.

Detective Richards led them along the cluttered city streets up to the first SRO which was crowded and smelled of smoke, food, and the odd lingering smell of burnt rubber. Reid wrinkled his nose as they walked down the hallway and the detective smiled ruefully, "Crack. Not much getting away from it in this kind of establishment."

"Right," said Rossi as they headed to the first victim's apartment door, "most major cities opt to practice a sort of containment policy rather than the full elimination of graft from a city. Sadly, for this young woman she ended up in seclusion with our UnSub."

As Det. Richards opened the door, the agents were greeted with a sight that took even the most seasoned professionals breath away. "Do you mind if I stay out here?" Richards asked holding the door open for the two men.

Reid shook his head and stepped inside.

"So he stayed here for several days with her here," Rossi gestures with a gloved hand to the bed, still with rumpled bloody top sheet and soaked pillows.

Reid stepped into the small bathroom. "He had privacy and complete control. He was surrounded by all of these people but none of them were cognizant enough to notice a missing member of the 'community.' SROs are designed for quick turnover among the residents but the truth is some residents are surprisingly long-term. We should check with the front desk or have Garcia.."

"Cash," Rossi said, "the front desk doesn't accept credit cards and the large one-time deposit is made in cash to secure the room. So he knows he'll have privacy, a victim that isn't expected; no work or school, and all of the facilities he would need to remain here comfortably for a few days." Rossi opened a mini-fridge next to a small desk at the end of the bed. "Fridge is empty."

"Each body had post-mortem signs of assault? Has the coroner been able to specify a time line for us in regards to her injuries? " Reid said lifting the bed's bloody top sheet.

"He's young." Rossi said without question. "He's still figuring out what he likes. He spends time with them because he's learning," Rossi walked around the small room forming a tight circle. "He knows enough about anatomy to attempt to remove her skin but alternates into a sense of frenzy. He literally has no control over himself. It's why he needs those extra hours or extra days."

Reid could feel the color draining from his face and quickly diverted the topic. "What was it about our UnSub that gave the victim confidence to bring him back to her home and not a hotel or car?"

"We can assume are UnSub does not have a vehicle," Rossi said running a gloved hand over the personal effects still laid out on the desk – some cheap jewelry and one very real looking diamond pendant – no more than a chip of a stone. Rossi held it up to Reid's view, "What kind of low-rent hooker keeps a diamond necklace laying about when she's bedding down in a cash-only SRO?"

"One that hasn't been at it for long. Do we think he was watching her or knew her from the building?"

Rossi raised an eyebrow as he opened the singular shallow draw of the small writing desk and took out a notepad and paper. "Our victim was a writer," he said nonplused.

Dr. Reid could feel both of his knees threatening to give out when he remembered the letters in his messenger bag, one old one pleading with him to visit Nathan, and the other, unopened. Reid knew immediately that he had to find out what was in that letter.


	5. Chapter 5

As the team was immersed in a marathon fourteen hour day of geographic profiles, autopsy reports, and crime scene tours; Dr. Reid waited with itching fingers for the right time to find some time alone to read that second letter still buried in his messenger bag.

Well into the fifteenth hour, Dr. Reid couldn't stand it any longer and walked into the three stall, personnel only, precinct bathroom, and locked the door. Reid shook his head as he was overcome with a sense of déjà vu, not so long ago he would indulge himself in this same ritual for a different reason. Part of him considered that he'd much rather the team suspects him of using again rather than corresponding with a mentally unstable young man with homicidal fantasies. He hoped desperately that it was just another plea for companionship.

Entering one of the bathroom stalls and putting his back to the door he dug for the letter. Reid tried not to dwell too long on what it meant that he'd stored the letter in the same concealed pocket as the drugs from Tobias Hankel. There is nothing wrong with this, Reid tried to tell himself as he turned the letter over in his hands, New York, like all big cities, was fully stocked with mentally unstable, potentially dangerous individuals. Despite his genius-level intelligent quotient, Reid wanted desperately to chock the letters and this gruesome case up to coincidence.

It crossed his mind to go out and retrieve a pair of gloves before opening the letter but that would be like admitting it was evidence and that it held some sort of admission of guilt. All Nathan's previous letter hinted at was loneliness and slightly inappropriate feelings towards Reid, which could be excused by the isolation and the lack of genuine care in the young man's life. As Reid continued to make excuses and ramble on about love maps and parental conditioning, his hands took on a life of their own and tore off the side of the envelope, effectively obscuring the postmark, a complete accident, yes, that was all.

As the words flooded his mind, Dr. Reid could feel himself breaking into a cold sweat:

_Dear Dr. Reid,_

_I never really understood what they meant when they talked about a killer getting a 'taste' for the kill. I remember wanting it, craving it, in that motel room with that prostitute. I could barely keep my hands still. Still a 'taste' for it? I mean, I remember feeling better, you know, well I'm sure Agent Gideon told you, when I was younger and there was that bird._

_She was much better than any stupid bird. I don't know if it is so exhilarating because it has been the first time in, well, I can't really remember when I've ever felt so alive. I wonder if it would be as exhilarating for you, because you spend your time trying to understand people like me, you're always there in the aftermath, never in the before. I wonder if it would be exciting to you to be there when it happened, even if you wouldn't admit it, like I had trouble admitting it until I heard you speak._

_I almost didn't want to wash her off my hands before I wrote this letter to you. I may be crazy but I'm not stupid. Besides, I hope you'll be seeing my work really soon, I think we may both like that. Everything without the pills is alive and so much more intense, missing you is the same. I wish I could be here to see your face when you walk through this door. I could almost see you standing here when I did it._

_This is the first time in years that my head has stopped hurting and I feel so full of energy. I'm sure you'll be able to tell me later about how this is just like everyone else you've ever profiled. I can barely contain myself writing this – I can barely sit still. It's this strange mix of wanting to run a marathon and then, oh never mind, I don't really want to be too far from her either – there is still some fun to be had. It's as if as time passes she becomes something new and different with each minute – every minute she can become something else, do something else, you'll see what I mean._

_These rooms are so disgusting –they remind me of my room. It would be wonderful to go to the side of the city where women stay home all day and have those gleaming kitchens with those knives that never dull and cost more than they're worth - something to aspire to, I suppose._

_This one was dirty and pathetic which made the first part really easy. I told her I didn't want to do it out on the street or in some back alley. She actually invited me to her room. Just so you know, the nervousness wasn't a ploy, I was prepared to cut her there in the alley but my hands shook, she was the one that assumed I was scared about sex._

_I think she was just as nervous as I was but that could have just been the drugs. She looked like the type that was in between some kind of drug fix. I guess, I'm just critical because after all of the pain I suffered to quit that fucking doctor-prescribed addiction I don't know what her excuse was. You know they actually call the withdrawals symptoms 'brain zaps' – it feels like being hit with a hot tire iron when you least expect it, repeatedly. That's what I just hate about doctors, they can't say or see what is right in front of their fucking faces. Jason Gideon and his pathology texts are just the same – why is it that you just can't say what it really is? Does it scare you?_

_Don't play dumb like them, Dr. Reid. We both already know how stupid she was – in so many ways now she's better than she ever was. She's so small and beautiful. What would be her excuse for selling herself like this if it weren't for drugs? I don't really need to feel bad because whatever her troubles were they're not there now. Now, she's just beautiful. You'll know what I mean when you see her._

_I remember in the lecture you gave that you talked about how, for that type of person, someone like me, seeing fear and watching the girl suffer was part of what we enjoyed. Her screaming scared me. There I said it. I don't know if it would scare me as much if we had a big house all to ourselves. I wonder if I will get there before we're together again. I hope so. I'd like to have big room with those tiled floors. Her screams would surround us but never get any farther than our ears. We wouldn't have to worry about neighbors but here you don't need to either. I just blend in with the other criminals. No one notices the tics, they all have them from the drugs they force on themselves._

_After those damn pills wore off and I could begin to tell what thoughts were mine and what were still just weak pieces of my brain begging for the pill. Imagining your blood-covered hands wrapped around my cock were the first hint that I may be coming back to myself, though the Nathan you met in the subway would never have confessed to those thoughts. I swear that Agent Gideon could see them floating around in my head. I hope for our sake that he's ill or something when you come to find me. He could probably read this letter and be on the way to the doorstep before it was over. No, not possible, I won't send this until I am gone, maybe up to the nice big houses where I can let them scream._

_She's been with me for over a day and the remorse is starting to settle in but without the doctors it's easier to ignore. I don't really have to worry, no one will come looking for her, not like her boss will call if she's late._

_You know what I had done the night before I'd followed you to the subway station that next morning? Those images from your lecture, those words, your voice, all played in my mind and it made it that much more intense. Yes, Dr. Reid, I do go to lectures on anger-excitation for fun – not the kind of fun I'm sure you had in mind when you asked me. The night before, I scared myself it felt so good. I couldn't imagine my life being any different and I knew I would need more. Back then it was magazines and grainy crime scene photos – nothing like this. I missed so many first times being locked away – it's not exactly like they encourage socialization with people like me. Maybe after this you can tell them that the constant and unrelenting loneliness helped finish me off?_

_She's the most company I've had in years even when I lived in Washington. You know, I tried when she wanted to do it normally – I tried kissing her. She looked shocked when I stabbed her. Then when she began to cough after the second cut and tasting the blood in her mouth – first real kiss and first orgasm all in one instant. My heart won't stop racing. It's not exactly like I can tuck her under the mattress and go off to find you, now is it? She isn't a magazine and that was the best part about it – magazines are set pictures and I can turn her into anything I want. She has a really pretty face. I think I'll keep it for you._

_After she stopped squirming, stopped struggling, that was when I got to play. I tried to take off some of her skin but that didn't work like I'd hoped – I think I need a sharper knife or maybe my hands just need to stop shaking. I left quite a scene for you, Dr. Reid. When we're finally together I think I would like to hear the lecture you'll give after this case is over. I promise to hide my arousal just as well as I did at Georgetown –maybe I'm lying._

_I know you won't get here until I've done a few more and I can't tell you how badly I want to try this again – I know this one will begin to disgust me. I better try again soon before word gets around – you know how girl like to talk._

_I'll be seeing you soon, Dr. Reid._

_Yours Truly,_

_Nathan_

Dr. Reid shoved the letter back into his bag and quickly fell to his knees and began to vomit, just missing the floor by a second. How many lives have I risked by letting him live? How many! Damnit! We catch him, really, _we_ catch him? Silently he damned Gideon for his reassurance, for making him promise never to miss a plane, for shaming him into the commitment. There is no _we_ now. Now was not the time for guilt, lamenting things he couldn't change, and the people who swore to be there and weren't.

He collected himself quickly; tucking his hair back behind his ears, washing his hands under the hottest water he could stand, and left the restroom. Reid was grateful that the dark circles and bloodshot eyes could be excused by the grueling work day – he had that kind of complexion that never really let those dark shadows disappear completely. There wasn't any time to hesitate or to try and feign normalcy. Reid snatched up his copy of the case file from his temporary working space and walked right out the precinct doors – fully intent on finding and stopping Nathan before he could go any further.

As Reid walked hastily along the trash-strewn streets that led out of the inner-city police station, he tried to comfort himself with the same reasoning he had repeated as the days drew closer to committing his mother. It's a matter of chemistry, a lack of certain chemicals, really just a good person, just needs help, medication, understanding – it will be OK.

Reid knew if he was the one to find Nathan it would end well, no one else has to die, even if he was the only one that seemed to know it.


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as Reid found a coffee shop in a halfway decent neighborhood, he refueled with some much-needed caffeine while frantically searching through a weathered notebook. He had Dr. Harris's number in here somewhere. She had given him her card the night that he had helped her complete the paper for Nathan's twenty-four hour hold.

In any other circumstances, Reid would have sat and debated his words to Nathan's mother; he would try not to arouse her suspicions, worry her, concern her, or hurt her. In reality, Dr. Harris made it easy for Dr. Reid – she was brusque and dismissive. She gave Reid the number of the institution upstate and hung up with him without asking a single question. Reid felt hot coils of rage in his stomach as his body became cold as he remembered Nathan's words of loneliness and anger at his perceived neglect. _She's the most company I've had in years._ Now was not the time to fall apart, Reid chastised himself as he tried to restrict his mind's recital of the most recent letter.

Dr. Reid dialed the number of the institution and after several transfers, redirects, and time-wasting recitations of the Health Information and Privacy Act; Reid was finally able to leverage his FBI credentials and education to receive a response. Nathan had been transferred to a non-profit rehabilitation and workforce enrichment dormitory for those recently released from State detention.

"So after keeping a heavily medicated young man, you thought the best idea was to transfer him to barracks for fresh-out-of-prison criminals and other mentally unstable patients," Reid's tone dripped with anger and superiority but he didn't care and before the doctor on the other line could interject he continued, "You didn't cure him, do you understand that? You locked him away for years and when he aged out of his confines you just let him go with the idea that housing him with criminals was a good idea…"Reid was ready to shout at them, question them, shock them with what the abandoned Nathan was up to now due to their sage treatment but he stopped himself and hung up instead.

Dr. Reid took out the map from inside the case file and scanned it quickly for the cross street. After packing up his paperwork, he headed out into the street, hailing a cab and directing it to the address of Nathan's last residence.

Reid tried to contain the feelings of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him as the cab pulled into a familiar neighborhood – he was just blocks away from the first SRO that he had visited with Rossi. Nathan, Reid thought, is still here.

Dr. Reid entered the old brick building that resembled more of a turn of the century tenement than a non-profit rehabilitation home. The entryway was eerily quiet with colorful bulletin boards advertising resident events, outings, and job opportunities – just like any college dormitory, if you didn't look too closely. As Reid approached the front desk he observed a young woman, no older than twenty-one, in a SUNY hooded sweatshirt, completely plugged into her music while she texted, laughing not-so-silently with each loud ping of a response.

Reid stood at the counter for several beats, the clerk still completely unaware, until he slammed his credentials down in front of her. Immediately her eyes shot up and all color drained from her face.

"C-can I help you?"

"My name is Dr. Spencer Reid, I'm with the FBI and I need access to a resident's room," he fought to keep the anger from his voice but it still took on a cold edge.

"Which resident?" She asked slowly leafing through a large binder.

"Nathan Harris."

"Nathan Harris is no longer with us. His personal effects are locked in our director's office – I don't think it's much of anything." She said gesturing to a dark office behind her desk.

"Do you know where Nathan Harris is now?"

"He went missing about a week and a half, maybe, I don't know, a while ago." She responded, her lackadaisical tone was almost more than Reid could take. He wanted to shake her but a verbal rattle was all he could manage.

"So you have a resident missing, presumably off their anti-psychotic medication, suffering the effects of withdrawal, and you pack up his room and go on about business as usual? Why were the authorities not contacted about this?"

The clerk stammered for a moment but recovered looking Reid in the eye, "We weren't aware that his disappearance was a Federal issue."

"Did you at least contact the police to put out an alert for a possible 5150, an individual at-large who is a danger to themselves or others? The staff here knows what medication he was on, do they not?" Reid's tone heightened and grew darker with each accusatory question. "They are aware of the consequences of abruptly discontinuing that medication and of the history of their residents?"

"Has Nathan done something?" She croaked quietly, growing ashen with each question Dr. Reid leveled at her.

"He's a person of interest in a multiple homicide investigation. Any idea of where he may have gone? Did he show any interest in areas of the city or did he attend frequent day trips anywhere? Did he have friends in the building?"

"I-I-Idontknow. I'm only here during the day, and the occasional night shift, to check residents in from their daily outings. They are allowed free rein as long as they are back before, as we say, the street lights come on. I was here when Nathan left but nothing seemed strange. He'd come back the day before with a box of pastries or a cake or something and left the next morning like he always did. I remember the pastries because I asked him to share one, as a joke."

"Did he?"

"No," she said quietly.

"How do you know there were pastries in the box?"

"Well it was one of those pink boxes from the bakery down the street not even five blocks from here." She sounded timid but defensive.

"How do you know what was in the box, did you look in the box? Did Nathan show you what he'd gotten?"

"No I just…"before she could get the rest of it out, Dr. Spencer Reid was on his way out the door and down the street toward the second SRO, the scene of Nathan last two murders.

Nathan hadn't recognized Dr. Reid until he was almost directly behind him. He had grown accustomed to seeing Dr. Reid in his periphery but he was consistently dressed in the same uniform of sweatervest and slacks that he had been wearing the night that he'd saved Nathan from himself. Nathan knew that it was the flesh and blood rendering of Dr. Spencer Reid because, as strange as it sounds, he had changed his clothes and his hair looked different – still long and unkempt but shorter than he had remembered. He was transfixed by his hair, watching him move determinedly down the crowded and dirty street, dodging the oncoming bodies headed just as swiftly in the opposite direction, most in an altered state of consciousness.

Nathan reached into his pocket and felt the thick lock of hair he had taken from the latest victim who lay no further than two blocks from the last two victims – she had yet to be found. He flirted with the idea of taking Dr. Reid to her. He knew the fantasy of leading Reid into his room and having him explain things to him in that informed yet excited tone was only that, a fantasy. He remembered Dr. Reid's tone in the subway, "Hey do you want to come back to the BAU with me – maybe meet some of my colleagues?" He'd heard his mother employ a similar tone to her younger and more hesitant patients. He had revealed something so desperate about himself and here was someone so smart, trying to placate him, reassure him, and save him. Nathan could practically feel his blood begin to pick up speed at the thought of their last moments together.

He watched Dr. Reid walk into the second SRO and fought the desire to return to his new room and her. Nathan had controlled himself for years being at home and satisfying himself covertly and infrequently – he could wait for Dr. Reid to return to the street. He could wait for the right setting. He'd only had scattered moments of conversation with Dr. Reid and this time he would get to linger. Nathan knew he had to wait if he was going to get anything more than a few seconds of contact. He had to try and be chaste and patient for these next few hours.

Suddenly, the deafening sound of sirens erupted behind him. Nathan put his back to the building, lifting the hood of his sweatshirt, he slid down the wall and sat on the sidewalk next to a man already sealed inside his sleeping bag which smelled strongly of burnt rubber and urine.

They couldn't take her just yet, he wasn't done, and his letter to Dr. Reid sat on the desk unfinished. They couldn't ruin things, not now, Reid wasn't with them. Reid was supposed to be the one in the room, picking up the evidence, and soaking his hands with her blood. Dr. Reid was headed in the wrong direction! Nathan could feel a cold hand wrapping around his gut and pulling him toward his new residence, his new conquest, but he knew better than to follow it.

Instead, Nathan gave into the urge to rock himself and did so as he watched the ambulance, fire engine, and two unmarked black SUVs pass his view. They would soon find his fourth girl but his best work was still ahead of him and that promise would have to satisfy him for now.


	7. Chapter 7

As the screaming sirens approached the residential hotel a steady stream of men, their 'dates', and other unsavory-looking people seemed to scatter from the building.

"Like rats running from a sinking ship," Rossi said as Morgan steered their vehicle to a stop.

"Let's hope that the manager listened this time and kept people away from the crime scene," Derek added as they exited the vehicle and began to swarm into the building.

After the hallway and building were secured the team divided their attentions.

JJ went door to door and spoke to the other female residents. Did they hear anything? No. See anyone they didn't recognize? Honey, that's about everyone, all the time in this place. Did they know the victim? Seen her 'round but she didn't say much – no one really does. Did she have a pimp? Not yet but several had 'suggested' it.

Emily went to interview the manager but, like the previous managers, he had nothing constructive to add. Victim paid in cash. He didn't notice her 'visitors', for which Emily speculated, he probably got a cut of business – more than just her weekly rent. Hey, he said, I try to be understanding if they can't make rent. Understanding, Emily arched an eyebrow, how many times were you understanding to the woman in there? The manager walked away muttering something about calling his lawyer, a cousin, to help with these questions. The monotonous push-and-pull between deal-making and extracting information ensued. Nothing helpful.

Morgan worked with the local cops in crowd control and general questioning. Everyone was so desperate to conceal their own transgressions, of no importance to the case, that Morgan received little in the way of information that would point them in the direction of the UnSub.

Hotch and Rossi entered the new residence and as much as it pained them to admit it; they had become accustomed to the UnSub's gratuitous mutilations and the carnage that was strewn about the room. Yet something about this room seemed different, this victim was fairly unscathed compared to the UnSub's previous work and, as Rossi noted, there was still food in the fridge.

In the corner of the room sat a lined notepad, as if someone had sat with their back to the corner, but still keeping the victim in full view, and began to write.

Aaron Hotchner didn't need Reid's genius IQ for the words to spring off the page toward him and he felt his eyes burn as he dove into the text without hesitation.

"What is it, Aaron?" Rossi could see the change in his partner's posture as he held the notepad close in his gloved hands.

Hotch began to read the letter aloud:

_Dear Dr. Reid,_

_Have you ever been addicted to anything? I know I told you that I couldn't stand these women and how they're so reliant on drugs. I don't like how they shiver and sweat if they don't get what they want. I decided to keep this one around a little. I cut her to keep her quiet and so she would know, if she didn't comply, as they used to say in the hospital, just what she was in for. I never had any intention of letting her go or leaving her though I might have told her that I would if she was good._

_It was interesting keeping her alive for awhile. I needed something to satisfy me. When they die it's just too quick .Don't get me wrong, it's good after their quiet but the blood doesn't flow and I'm starting to find the smell of these places revolting. I think I've honed my skills to get into some place nicer. I think I've earned some clean, sweet skin unmarred by track marks and bruises from other men._

_I've started going on walks and leaving them for awhile. It's another kind of excitement walking into the room, unlocking the door, and imagining that I am seeing her through your eyes or that when I walk into the room you're by my side. When I see her lying on the bed all cut, blood everywhere, and nothing else. Well, it's enough to make me hard all over again. That reaction used to scare me – like the time I saw those bodies that my mom used for teaching. The cold sterile smell of the morgue, the gleaming metal all around me, and then that pale, clean body lying there. She was the only human thing in the entire room. Do you feel strange when you're in a morgue or do you feel at home in a way?_

_You seemed too nice to be the one who deals with the bodies. Do they keep you in an office most of the time? Then again, there were plenty of people who thought I looked too nice to do what I've done. You knew better but you still tried to help me. I'm a lot older than you and I'm changing all of the time. Do you remember saying that to me? I wonder how you've changed? How did my blood on your hands change you?_

_I know I am changing. The truth is, I'm beginning to get bored with these women. It's still satisfying, don't get me wrong. I enjoyed this one but there was something lacking too. It would be much more satisfying to punish someone who knew it was coming._

_I remember from your lecture about our need to escalate; to kill a greater number, at greater frequency, or needing to change the method of their kill. This is how you catch them because we become lazy and sloppy – kind of like these whores._

_I'm getting restless, Dr. Reid. When are you going to come back to me? It would be just tragic, don't you think, if these women just rotted away in these rooms without you ever getting to them? Well, they already were already rotting all alone before I got to them just not in the way that would bring you to me._

_I could really use your guidance here, Dr, Reid. What do I do next? I can't give it up and just go back to things as they were…_

The letter ended mid-thought and it left Hotch's heart racing as he felt desperate to know the letter's conclusion. Agent Hotchner's brow furrowed as he tried to race through his memories. The UnSub knows Reid? Is stalking Reid? Before he could think it Rossi gave voice to the next question:

"Where is Reid?" Rossi said standing shoulder to should with Agent Hotchner, reading the words for himself.

"I don't know," Hotch sounded angry, that kind of scary-angry that would send a less-seasoned subordinate back to their cubicles to hide. "His phone is off. I've got Garcia tracking it the moment it goes back online."

"Did Reid have any kind of relationship with any of the previous UnSubs you'd profiled?" Rossi asked stepping away from Hotch and making a second pass around the room.

"I don't know." Hotch said sounding unlike himself, suddenly defeated. The implications of the letter were not good and he'd seen Dave's approach with Garcia after she'd gotten shot – Dave had turned the blame onto her. It was the right thing to do, Hotch told himself, because she was responsible in a way for her own injury. The idea that Reid could somehow be involved in these murders – now that was just too much to stomach. Yet this was not the first time that Reid had fallen off the grid; New Orleans, Las Vegas, and the time that Reid had disobeyed him by going off to find the UnSub himself.

"This isn't the first time Reid has gone missing." Rossi said matter-of-factly. "The M.O.'s are completely different but is it possible that one of those cases may lead us to him?"

Before Dave could continue, Hotch took out his cell and had Penelope Garcia on the line:

"Your very own talking, walking, Wiki wonder, Penelope Garcia; search and ye shall find."

"Garcia. I need you to look up some of our previous offenders – anything that Reid had direct involvement in – especially offenders under the age of thirty."

As Garcia's fingers fluttered away on the keys, Aaron turned to Dave, "The writer mentions his mother, like Reid knew his mother too, maybe the mother was involved in the case?"

Dave looked over the note again and spoke, " Garcia, we want suspects with family or experience in the medical profession."

Garcia could feel the color draining from her face as she compiled all of the information of the request: young, previous involvement with the BAU, closeness with Reid, and a mother in the medical field.

"Nathan Harris," She croaked – her throat suddenly feeling like a desert wasteland.

Aaron's eyes grew wide and Rossi looked quizzically at the phone and then up to Aaron's worried visage.

"Garcia, we need all the information on this man. Where is he now?"

"This will require some digging if he remained institutionalized after…oh God…" Penelope began to strike the keyboard with greater haste.

"What?" Rossi asked, "Who is this person?"

"Nathan Harris was released from an Upstate New York institution after spending the last two years in psychiatric care. He was released to a non-profit rehabilitation home not too far from where you are now. In formation traveling to your phones, now."

Once Hotch and Rossi had gathered up the rest of the team, they set out for the address that Penelope had given to them. As they drove, Hotch explained what he could recall of Nathan Harris and the D.C. serial killer that they had apprehended those many years ago. Morgan interjected with the information regarding Nathan's attempt on his own life and how he had left Reid's business card as a suicide note. Reid was the first one on the scene.

"Your blood on my hands," Rossi repeated as all the pieces began to come together. "The letter was written as though they had been corresponding; did Reid mention Nathan after the case was over?"

Each member of the team answered with a thoughtful denial.


	8. Chapter 8

Nathan watched, pleased, as Dr. Reid fought with his bonds before gaining full consciousness. He was pleased that when Reid opened his eyes he did not seem to be expecting Nathan to be standing in front of him, given his current situation. Maybe Dr. Reid would stay with him and it would be okay. Yet this scene filled Nathan with that calm and euphoric electricity that he'd known to mark the beginnings of his explorations.

"How did you get here?" Dr. Reid raised his head, giving up on moving his arms, as they were secured behind him, and his legs, which were tied to the corresponding legs of the chair that he was in.

"I didn't think they would find us here. " Nathan ran a shaking hand down Dr. Reid's cheek.

Reid's eyes widened as he looked deep into Nathan's eyes which were filled with a dark glow of an impending storm, a mind fraught with ideas, and the windows to Reid's very uncertain future.

Reid reminded himself of how fondly Nathan had spoken to him in his letters and the timid awe he'd shown the last time they'd met . Reid tried to assure himself that these things meant that he was the key to ending this and that this predicament would just be another case where he would have to fearlessly wander into the delusions of a disturbed, but completely sympathetic, UnSub.

"They won't find us here, Nathan." Reid said with an even and certain tone. Nathan smile and moved closer to Dr. Reid, moving his hand from Reid's cheek to cup the nape of Reid's neck. Nathan knelt between Reid's legs, placing a hand on either knee to maintain his balance, "Tell me why they won't, Dr. Reid. Why doesn't this fit my profile?"

"The team has profiled that the UnSub we are after is an organized serial murderer." As Reid spoke Nathan drew his hands leisurely up Reid's thighs. Reid shifted and stumbled over his words, struggling not to pull away or provoke Nathan into a rage that seemed to bubble just under the surface of each word he spoke. Instead as Reid spoke, he focused on Nathan's eyes as they dilated as if he'd just taken a long hit of a powerful drug. Reid knew he was in trouble but kept talking, hoping that his words would see him out the door unharmed.

"The decrease in time between each of your last three kills suggests that the UnSub," Nathan smiled and moved a breath away from the doctor's face. "Unknown subject? You know who I am though, didn't you Dr. Reid?"

"Yes," Reid exhaled allowing the sheer force of it carry his words – the air around them was filled with a frightening electricity – he could feel Nathan stretching against him like a cat coiling up before racing after its prey.

"Did my work give me away? Did you think of me when you saw the first one?" Nathan moved away from Reid's lips as they threatened to graze each other as he spoke.

"I had your letters, Nathan." Reid croaked in the most matter-of-fact tone that he could manage given Nathan's hot breathe running over his ear and throat as his other hand lay at the nape of his neck tentatively entangled with Reid's hair. Reid tried to remain non-reactive until he felt disturbing pressure under the left side of his ribcage.

"When will they know to look for you?" Nathan sounding more like the concerned high school sophomore that Reid had known.

"Due to the nature and high-risk status of the victims you've chosen, the BAU had no reason to factor any kind of personal or obsessional aspects into the profile."

For a moment Nathan looked as if he was hurt or in some way pitying Dr. Reid when he spoke the next words, unbuttoning Dr. Reid's shirt, "They don't know that I did this for you?"

"You didn't do," Reid gasped as his shirt was pushed aside and the feeling of cool, sharp metal pressed into his ribcage. "you didn't do this for me."

Nathan looked away from Reid for a moment, his thoughts occupied by something out of Reid view. "I know, Dr. Reid." He whispered and looked down at the blade in his hand, transfixed by the shimmer of the metal and stark pallor of Reid's skin – it called to him, in the same way that a canvas must call to an artist. Nathan ran his free hand over every inch of exposed skin on Reid's abdomen. "Tell me why I want it so bad, Dr. Reid."

"There is no simple answer for that." Reid tried to remain still as Nathan ran the point of the knife along his ribcage and down his sternum.

"Please, try?" Nathan's voice was pleading but the point of the knife pressing into Reid's solar plexus gave it a demanding edge.

As Reid struggled for words, Nathan bit and sucked at the skin on Reid's chest , at first it was a shy nibble, as if he was still asking Reid for permission, asking his captive for the go ahead. After Reid gave a lukewarm response to the first two tentative attempts Nathan gave into his need, the pressure throbbing at the back of each of his teeth, and bit down on Reid's pale skin and sucked the blood to the surface. Reid threw his head to the side, trying to distract himself with a useful statistic or piece of information, anything to keep himself from expressing his pain and playing into the fantasy. However, as the pain increased, the doctor began to hiss and moan with each bite, suck, and torturous release of skin.

"What if there were no reasons, Nathan?" Reid blurted out as Nathan sat back to admire his work, the red and angry bites now coating Reid's chest.

With the knife out of Reid's view, Nathan resorted to using his fingers to intermittently and unexpectedly press into each of Reid's new marks. "That I just chose to do this?" Nathan asked, quirking his head to the side as he pressed into one of the angrier looking marks.

Reid took in a sharp breathe and looked Nathan in the eye. "You said it yourself, you're enjoying this," Reid squirmed as Nathan was once again, pressed up against him, and displaying the same lack of mercy to the skin of his collarbone and neck.

"Yes, I am." Nathan knew he wouldn't last much longer in this game and hoped that for Dr. Reid's sake that he was wrong. "I enjoy you but I wish I didn't want this so much." Nathan bit down onto Dr. Reid's neck stifling a sincere sob of remorse as he tasted blood and sucked it up along with the arousal and shame that flooded him.

"What if there wasn't anything that said that you were destined for this, Nathan?" Reid whispered as his eyes burned with the pain and wave of hopelessness that washed over the situation.

Then the knife blade was back at Reid's solar plexus and Nathan's dark eyes were the only thing in Reid's view. "Don't leave me so quickly. I don't want you to leave me." Nathan said nuzzling Reid's neck as pressed into him slowly. "I want you to talk to me while it happens."

Reid choked and gasped . "Oh God, Nathan. Stop now. Please, stop now. You can still stop. It isn't too late."

Nathan was now pressed tightly to Reid, straddling his lap almost obscenely, and shivering as the warmth from Reid's body flooded his hands. Nathan's slow grind against Dr. Reid became frenzied as he felt Reid buck against him in the throws of his departure. Nathan removed the knife only to return it again, quickly, lower into Spencer's gut. Nathan wrapped his arms around Dr. Reid's shoulders holding him in a macabre lover's embrace as they each found release.

"Dr. Reid?"

Nathan bolted awake, breathing frantically, and looking around filled with panic. His pants were soiled and would have to be changed, Nathan though, looking down disdainfully. Then he noticed the blood on his hands and knife laying haphazardly by the couch that he had been asleep on. He hadn't really lost control?


	9. Chapter 9

Nathan sprung up from the couch and began pacing. He ran his hands, covered in dried blood, nervously over the thighs of his soiled clothes. He hoped that the still damp stain in his lap meant that it had been a dream. He shook his head trying to fight off the pressing pain at the right side of his head. The withdrawal pains were subsiding with each day, with each kill, but every morning he still awoke with the most searing pain at the right side of his head. Between the pain and worry, Nathan felt as if he were falling forward into his anxiety as he fumbled with his blood-covered clothing in the entryway of the living room.

Nathan looked down a short hall. It looked like his home but things were different; the furniture was new, the scent of fresh cooking hung in the air, and was still noticeable over the rank copper scent coating his clothes, and the carpet beneath his feet?

Nathan lifted his foot as he heard the tell-tale _squish_ of his shoe crossing over soaked carpet. The thought that behind one of those doors – that Dr. Reid was behind one of those doors – Nathan wanted to think that he would have more control than that, that he wouldn't be so consumed by lust and rage that he'd actually…

He took a deep breath and flung open the first door to his right, a bedroom door.

It should have been his room; dark, covered in comic book clippings, a few music posters, and those blackout curtains that his mom had placed in every room of the house, so she could sleep after her all-night shifts. Nathan's room had been repainted to a sweet butter yellow with large moldings and a soft beige carpet. The room was brighter than Nathan could have ever imagined it. The pastoral colors and the whimsical decorations, Nathan felt like the memory of Reid up against him in that hard wooden chair, that had been reality and Nathan had awakened to a dream.

A pale pink and white bed sat in the middle of the room and it wasn't until Nathan had turned the corner of it, headed to open the closet, and come upon a girl. She was no older than fifteen, lying in several large streams of blood. Nathan looked, filled with panic, and immediately dropped to his knees and began trying to contain the blood. The images of what he'd done rushed him in rapid succession; she'd gone with him quietly enough but she's suspected him as soon as they were alone together, and because of that, it was too late.

Nathan had stabbed her the moment she turned to him to flee. She crashed up against him, clawing, screaming, and doing her best to fight him off. The intensity pushed him to the edge as he was lost in the frenzy of it all; the moving hands, dodging each other, all the while wanting to connect, two determined bodies moving in opposition to each other. All she wanted was for him to stop, she'd said as much as he lay over her, on the freshly carpeted floor, when he'd gained the upper hand and she'd cease to physically fend him off.

There was something about this one – she'd set the standard for all others to come after.

All of this registered with Nathan as he looked around the room, defectively trying to clean up the blood that surrounded her, and remove any thing that could give him away. The reality of the situation was that this one, the girl, would be the one to get him caught. He couldn't picture anything after her or beyond the new searing pain in his right temple.

Yet the gap in his memory, the time between her and Dr. Reid, were invisible to Nathan's mind. He knew they were there, in there somewhere, but he couldn't get at them, not until the burning stopped. Nathan sat back on the blood-smeared carpet and began to rub at his temple in a tender yet repetitive way.

Nathan tried his best to fight off the pain, chalking it up to weakness, to the addiction, it was imperative that he make it down the hall. Is Dr. Reid down the hall? Were those memories, still poised to rush him in flesh and blood?

Nathan stood and walked slowly, each footstep registering in the side of his head, and he was somewhat thankful for the pain that was distracting him from possible fear.

Stopping in the hallway and taking little time to hesitate, Nathan threw open the door directly to his left. An empty bathroom with no sign that he or a _victim_ had been there. As Nathan's temple continued to spark and burn he thought about victims. __

_Weren_ _'_ _t_ _we_ _all_ _victims?_ _We_ _all_ _suffer_ _something_ _that_ _is_ _the_ _worst_ _pain_ _in_ _our_ _lives,_ _what_ _if_ _that_ _does_ _break_ _some_ _of_ _us?_ _If_ _it_ _does_ _break_ _us,_ _but_ _our_ _bodies_ _don_ _'_ _t_ _expire,_ _are_ _we_ _the_ _walking_ _dead,_ _in_ _a_ _way?_ _They_ _'_ _re_ _victims_ _only_ _because_ _they_ _could_ _die._

Nathan was angry. He was angry at being hurt, sick, dying, all the while, being locked out of sight. Nathan was angry that she would get the attention for one instant moment of suffering in her life. He'd lived in pain for longer. He had to find a way to keep them around longer.

At the end of the hall were two bedroom doors, one at his left, and another at his right. Nathan threw open the door to his left and tripped back in shock at the sight that greeted him.

_They'd all been in this room together, Nathan recalled; the daughter in the other room, Mom, and Dad. Getting into the house was easy, he'd broken back in many times, when his mother had come home unexpectedly and he'd been out too late. It was an effortless slip into the master bathroom window and he was prepared for what would come next._

_The fear had been so much different this time. Nathan had never killed a man and nothing prepared him for the jolt that ripped through him when his eyes burst open, surging with shock, at the realization that he'd been cut. Nathan was terrified of him trying to fight back but he didn't, he just struggled to gasp for breath, and meaninglessly try to struggle away from the knife that had already entered him. The feeling of his heavy head falling, helpless, into his hand frightened him even more – it was if now he knew what Reid would feel like._

The memories, and Nathan's understanding of reality, suddenly came into sharp focus as his hand connected with the last bedroom door. She was sitting in that wooden chair, Reid's chair, and she was tied just like Reid had been tied, but this wasn't Reid, and she wasn't dead.


	10. Chapter 10

Nathan was prepared to tell Dr. Reid that what kept him from believing that the two weeks were anything other than a dream was the splitting pain that surged randomly down the side of his face and shot through his head. The pain kept him very much in the here and now no matter how good their warm blood felt on his clothes and skin. Nathan allowed himself a loud burst of laughter as the words of Lady Macbeth repeated themselves varying cadence and tonality and drowning out all the other thoughts in his head, "perfumes, the perfumes of Arabia, sweeten these little hands," Slowly the shrill voice of the female murderess transformed into Nathan's own slow, sad, and painful tones. "it takes the pain away, it doesn't hurt, blood, sweeten these little hands – take the pain away."

Nathan was drowning in the surreal reality of it all. The blood soaked carpet in nearly every room of the house, the low moans coming from behind the last closed door, and his clothes that were beginning to stiffen with the dried blood that coated them.

Nathan let out another loud laugh that he wanted so badly to turn into a yell as he felt another electric surge of pain slap the side of his face. "Stop it!"

_Not like the begging ever made it stop or made you look any more in control – like you didn't need those medications._

Every little voice that Nathan had so easily dismissed in the past were now beginning to grumble and groan into wakefulness and Dr. Reid was nowhere to be found to quiet them.

_Well, you've finally gotten one back here! Good job! How many boys do you think get to come this close to making their fantasies come true? Now quit standing out here moaning and get in there!_

Nathan flinched involuntarily as if dodging the shove into the nearest wall – the next surge of pain in his head came in the form of a vivid memory of the torment he endured during his short time in high school.

_Freak!_

"Stop it!" Nathan cried, throwing open the door, and coming face to face, once again with the bound woman in the chair.

She was frozen, startled, like the proverbial deer in the headlights. Her lower lip began to quiver as Nathan just stared at her, still reeling from his own pain, she tried to shiver away a sob as she spoke, "I'm sorry, what did I do?"

"Shut up!" Nathan yelled, almost out of instinct.

"P-please, why are you doing this?"

"Shut up! You know what I'm capable of! Just shut up!" Nathan paced around the woman that was trying her best not to become hysterical.

"My daughter's name is Ella. My husband's name is Michael. We're good people. If you need help..."

Nathan unsheathed the knife concealed in his belt and pressed it against her throat as he leaned in close to her face. He couldn't take the noise she was making. The screaming and jabbering in his head was enough to deal with he couldn't deal with her adding to the cacophony that was driving him over the edge.

"Please, I want you to live for awhile longer. I don't want to kill you without him here. Please, I am trying to figure this out. Please, just be quiet for now. You'll have plenty of time to talk about everything once he gets here."

The woman began to cry in earnest this time.

"You know you'll bleed to death slowly and very unpleasantly if I cut out your tongue. I've never done it before but you and I can both imagine that it won't work. You don't want me to hurt you like that?"

The woman grew pale and began gasping, like a fish deprived of its water, "I. I. I w-won't say anything. Please. Please don't do that."

Nathan sheathed the knife back into his belt and used his free hand to clear her hair from her face. He cupped her face in his hands and used his thumbs to wipe the tears from her face. Quickly, Nathan unsheathed the knife again and before she could make a sound, cut away a piece of his shirt that hadn't been spoiled by blood. He used the makeshift cloth to clean the sweat and other unsightly things from her face.

Nathan knelt before her as he dabbed away the tears and tried his best to restore her to the sweet and calm pallor that she had as he watched her sleep, what seemed like moments ago.

She was really rather beautiful; early thirties – maybe, dark brown hair that was almost black, and naturally red lips that stood out perfectly against her stark white skin. Nathan smiled as he thought of Snow White. He imagined her lying still in a glass coffin waiting for his kiss. It had been almost twenty years since he'd heard the story but that didn't stop him from imaging them both in peaceful silence, surrounded by forest – blood looks really good on glass.

Nathan's hands began to shake as he could almost feel him over her as her blood brought the softness back to his already soaked clothes. He had to wait. Dr. Reid would find him eventually and then the fun would begin.


	11. Chapter 11

Dr. Spencer Reid drove as quickly as he dared in the direction of Washington D.C. the entire time his thoughts were awash with the promises he'd made to Gideon, Hotch, and Morgan regarding his reliability and safety.

After Owen Savage, Reid had promised Hotch never to put himself in danger like that again, though, Reid justified, it wasn't like Hotch hadn't risked his own safety when he found himself identifying with an UnSub. Hotch had even allowed the UnSub one final kill before disarming him and walking him out safely. In the end, Reid though, Hotch would understand.

Morgan and Garcia had both needled him about his attachment to Nathan. "I know your heart bleeds for the kid…" Morgan seemed to preface everything with that, back when he was convinced that Nathan was the UnSub they sought so long ago in D.C.

Reid thought of the letters. He knew that he was some part of the puzzle for Nathan, he didn't need to be a genius to figure that out, but maybe he was the one that could keep him safe. If the team got there before he did, which was unlikely, but if they did, Reid knew what that would mean for Nathan.

Reid could just imagine Hotch and Morgan vying for the honor to dispatch the man they imagined had Reid in his clutches. Morgan would tease him later, allowing all of the anger at him to disappear with the overwhelming happiness of his safe return. Hotch would remain silent. It was that silence that Reid feared worse than any formal repercussions. Reid would willingly take on a hundred Congressional panels rather than face that silence.

As he pulled into the familiar neighborhood, Reid could feel the eerie silence enveloping him. Nathan's former home seemed filled with a frightening stillness. Reid had been taught to ignore his fear of the dark but there was something about approaching this home that made the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention.

Reid drove around the block and parked his car out of sight. He knew if Nathan spotted it that it could lead to panic, and a dead hostage meant Nathan was living on borrowed time until the rest of the team arrived. If Reid failed to handle this, it was likely that no one would be getting out alive.

Reid sat in the car looking contemplatively at his gun. If he brought it with him, he might as well just hand the gun to Nathan as he walked through the door. Nathan, if the house had been occupied, had several lives to leverage Reid with to get him to disarm. Reid also knew that Nathan had no desire to use a gun. Nathan's interests were towards sexual sadism and piquerism – he would have no interest in shooting Reid.

As if those facts provided Reid with any comfort, as he circled the dark house, trying to determine the best entrance. Reid had seen the bathroom window ajar and decided against it as he was most-likely to run face to face with Nathan if he took that route. As Reid walked cautiously through the backyard he caught sight of colorful curtains, a child's room, and he hoped he wasn't too late to save the occupant.

Reid was able to drop himself through the window with a fair amount of ease, landing on his feet, Reid bristled as it became very clear that he had landed on wet carpet.

After touring the crime scenes that Nathan had left behind previously, Reid felt the welcome signs of desensitization – this job, this UnSub, and these murderers had prepared him for pretty much anything. Yet there was still something terrifying, which seemed to gnaw at Reid's most primitive nature, when he took in the sight of Nathan's youngest victim.

The idea that maybe he'd been too late tore at Reid with conflicted feelings of responsibility and relief. It was his fault that this family had suffered this way and yet he was relieved. Reid was relieved that he could call the team in to deal with this horror, now they were on a warm trail, and they might still catch him. Yet Reid's relief was cut short by a familiar shout followed by a whimper of pain coming for just outside of the bedroom. Reid drew in a deep breath, thanking any intervening deity he could think of, flooded with a new relief that the bedroom door had been closed.

The whimpers turned to tears and a loud slam against the hallway wall. "Just make it stop, please. Please, make it stop."

Reid reached for the doorknob and hesitated as his thoughts turned to Hotch and Foyet. He'd said it to Garcia, "I'm a blinker." He knew he didn't have what it took to stare down someone determined to kill him. He'd been lucky to have Hotch there with him that day of the interview in prison when they'd unwittingly been locked in with a serial killer with nothing to lose. Reid took another deep breath and opened the door.

"Nathan?"


	12. Chapter 12

"Nathan?"

"Shut up! It's not like you're really here to help me! You left!" Nathan raged against the perceived illusion not bothering to turn and face the specter.

Reid took a step back, careful not to put his back against the wall. Reid noted the exits before proceeding, "Nathan, my name is Dr. Spencer Reid. You remember meeting me? You attended one of my lectures and later led my team and I to capturing the D.C. serial killer."

There was that tone of voice again, just like in the subway; calm, curious, and slightly placating.

Reid continued, "You wrote to me months ago, you sent it to the Bureau. I didn't get it until after you'd been released. I wish I could have been there." Reid knew if he had any hope of walking Nathan out alive a second time that empathy would go a long way to accomplishing his goals. Reid would later tell himself that he said it all under the guise of doing his job, but more than part of him knew that if he'd been there, when Nathan had been released – well, those contemplations were best saved for the NA meeting he'd most certainly find himself in after the case had concluded.

Nathan cringed as he felt the nerves behind his eyes burn white hot with pain and then the unexpected happened, tears. In the past, the drugs would have never allowed this. Nathan swallowed a chuckle at that thought that to his surprise came out still, as a sob. Before the drugs would have wracked his head with pain at the slightest hint of sadness, his eyes caught in a state of denied release, as he did his best to ignore the pain. Now it was as if every tear that had been repressed finally sprung forth. As the first hot tear hit his hand he heaved a sigh of relief.

This was a first, Reid thought, he'd never had an UnSub cry when caught. As Dr. Reid stood behind Nathan, he mused how the young man was almost unrecognizable. In the place of that shy and pale little boy in the subway was now a man, a serial murderer, in the middle of a psychotic break.

Nathan was lost in the sensation of his emotional release, completely absorbed in the foreign sensation of the streams of tears running down his face. Before he could give into his grief completely Reid spoke again, "Then I got your second letter, you really paid attention during that lecture at Georgetown, I was impressed that you remembered all of that – even without your notes."

"Dr. Reid?" Though his voice had deepened somewhat with age and emotion, the frightened boy that had cornered him in the subway remained in there somewhere. Like Adam and Tobias, Reid maintained there was something in there still capable of being saved, of being set free.

Nathan turned slowly, on his knees, to face Dr. Reid and then stood. The combination of Nathan's increased physical presence, and the dried blood that coated the front of his clothing, had Reid against the wall before he could stop himself. From behind, Reid could have still imagined that Nathan was the boy from the subway but face to face, it was hard to see Nathan as anything other than a butcher.

Nathan took a step toward him, wiping away his tears and leaving a smear of blood across his cheek in the process. "Dr. Reid?" He moved closer until he could feel the older man's shallow, nervous breathes on his face.

"Nathan, listen to me, are you armed? Where is the knife?"

Nathan set his hand on his knife and began to unsheathe it.

"Nathan, stop. I need you to take your hand away. I'm going to take the knife from you. Do you understand?"

Nathan nodded and rather unexpectedly placed either of his hands of Reid's shoulders and squeezed gently. Nathan stared at him afraid that if he looked away that Reid would disappear and another illusion, something more frightening, would take his place.

Nathan breathed out a shallow gasp of surprise. "You really are here. You're real…and warm." Nathan moved closer.

Reid proceeded with caution, setting his hand gently at Nathan's side, keeping a firm yet gentle touch as his hand moved toward the knife in the side of Nathan's belt.

"Dr. Reid?"

"Yes, Nathan?"

"I don't want to go back." There was that scared sophomore again. "They – y-you don't know what it's like. I need this now."

Reid tried his best to stay focused as Nathan's grip on his shoulders became bruisingly tight. From the moment Nathan had stepped toward him, Reid had kept eye contact and held it. The change in Nathan's eyes, in his entire visage, transformed with those last words, "I need this now." The immediacy was terrifying and Reid did the best he could, given the circumstances, to maintain control of himself and the situation.

"Nathan, you can't go on doing this. You want to know why you do what you do? Well, eventually every killer makes a mistake because they need to get caught; for some, it is part of the fantasy, they think they'll go on to live in infamy, for others, it's just the need to tell someone, to gain recognition," Reid allowed his hand to travel further toward the handle of the knife, "I see you Nathan. I know what you've done and soon so will the rest of my team. Now it's time to stop, "Reid wanted to add, _before it's too late_ , but Nathan seemed to understand the sentiment by tightening his grip on Reid's shoulders.

Reid winced as Nathan's grip was almost unbearable and the boy was moving closer – Reid knew he needed to change tactics, yes, before it was too late, for them both. "It's time to learn from what you've done. That's what you asked me for, wasn't it? What you've always wanted from me and Agent Gideon, to know why you do what you do?"

In a flash, Nathan grabbed Reid's wrist and held it as it were his only lifeline, as if, to let go meant that they would both slip away. Reid's pulse under his fingertips gave Nathan a fresh surge of adrenaline – Reid's pulse was the bell, the trigger, which made him salivate.

Nathan removed his other hand from Reid's shoulder, moving Reid's hand away from the knife, he withdrew it and pressed, tip-first, into Reid's throat. In on fluid movement, Nathan took a step back, and with one hand on the collar of Reid's shirt, and the other wielding the knife, Nathan was able to Reid up against his chest, the knife now pressing blade-first into his throat.

Reid was pushed forward, the blade moving only slightly to accommodate for the sudden movement. Nathan was steering him toward the master bedroom. The first thing Reid noticed when entering the bedroom was the massive amount of blood concentrated on one side of the bed. The sheets had been pulled up to hide the Nathan's victim, the knife prevented Reid from taking in a nervous swallow of air before he spoke, his first words coming out dry and shaky, "Why the sudden feeling of remorse?"

"What?" Nathan answered sharply, pressing down on the knife more in reaction than intention to harm Reid.

Reid almost threw himself back onto Nathan's chest to avoid the inescapable blade, bring one hand up to Nathan's wrist, trying to ease the pressure on his throat. "You covered their face, that is a classic sign of remorse," Reid could feel the skin at his throat begin to sting like the telltale signs of a razor's cut, "Nathan, please," Reid was pressed against Nathan so tightly that he had no trouble feeling the younger man begin to shiver at his words. "Nathan, you're hurting me," Nathan moved the knife enough to give Reid breathing room, just enough so his throat could rise and fall without fear of being cut, Reid cleared his throat and swallowed, "Tell me why you regretted this?"

For his answer Reid felt his shirt collar released and that free hand came to tangle in his hair, Nathan used it as leverage to bring Reid's ear closer to his lips, "I didn't want to kill him, Dr. Reid, this didn't have to happen. He..I..this..you know I couldn't have let him live."

Reid's used Nathan's momentary introspection and condemnation to push back against Nathan and then fall forward, attempting to escape Nathan's grasp. Yet, Nathan's hand was still firmly entwined in Reid's hair and he used Reid's momentum to drive him, face first, into the bedroom doorframe.

Reid heard a pop, his vision sparkled and then blackened, his knees gave way, sending him to the floor and back into Nathan's arms.

Nathan laughed as he felt a matching surge of pain burn through his head. _This didn't have to happen_ , Nathan shook his head, and then began to drag the unconscious Reid toward the closed door across the hall. _This didn't have to happen._


	13. Chapter 13

This should not have happened, bruising Dr. Reid beautiful and fine-boned face was almost sacrilegious in Nathan's eyes. Yet having the young doctor passive as he bound his wrist and ankles, smoothed the hair from eyes, and delicately wiped the blood from his face, this was better than any fantasy. Nathan's hands shook as he fumbled his way through removing Dr. Reid's tie and he couldn't resist undoing the next two buttons under his collar. Nathan stared, transfixed, as he watched the pale skin rise and fall with each shallow breath. Nathan had thought of gagging Reid but he knew it was too dangerous, if Reid had broken his nose, he didn't want to endanger his breathing. Practically, he had committed one needless and unsatisfying crime and did not want another on his mind.

Yet that voice crept into Nathan's head, chastising him for his feigned sincerity, he enjoyed the kill, he was just frightened to admit it to Dr. Reid. To admit that Nathan enjoyed killing the father would mean confessing why he enjoyed it, how he had imagined Dr. Reid as that head fell into his hands in complete surrender. He knew Reid would tell him that it fit his profile – the nervousness, the fumbling, and swift and easily satisfied arousal – it was just another indicator of his age, a youth he never fully enjoyed.

If Nathan had been filled with joy earlier, due to the certainty of his future victims, then Nathan was consumed by anxiety at the uncertainty of the future. Reid had found him which meant the rest of the team; Agent Gideon, Morgan, and the others were likely in his future as well. The tears sprang forth again at the thought of returning to restraints, chemicals, and the talking, the talking and the journaling, forced to catalog all of his desires, his perversities, for the rest of his life. Nathan cried as he ran his hand inside of Reid's shirt, taking the warmth of his skin, the softness, all of the sensations that he would be giving up.

Nathan unfastened one more button and placed his hand over Reid's heart. Then again, Nathan thought, as he relished the slow pulse under his finger tips, maybe they would just insist on his death. This idea caused the tears to fall faster down Nathan's cheeks, he was frightened by the overwhelming relief he felt at the idea. The overwhelming certainty that came with that thought pushed Nathan toward Reid, hand still firmly over Reid's heart, as Nathan brought his lips to Reid's still blood-stained li. The one-sided nature of the kiss did not dissuade Nathan as he nipped and licked at Reid's bottom lip, savoring every spot of the coppery liquid left behind on his mouth.

Nathan pulled back long enough to with draw the knife from his belt. He pulled the doctor towards him, exposing his back and bound hands. Nathan sliced through the cord binding Reid's hands and then gently eased the unconscious man back up against the wall. Nathan took Reid's right hand and massaged the mark the cord had left in the short amount of time. Nathan wiped away the wetness from his cheeks as he held Reid's wrist in his hand, his fingertips over Reid's pulse-point. There it was again, that well-known tightening in his chest, the fluttering excitement in his stomach, and the telltale physical signs that he craved a fresh sheen of blood on his hands.

Suddenly, with a sharp intake of breath, a retching cough, Reid emerged from unconsciousness.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Reid," Nathan couldn't explain it but seeing those eyes regaining their light, now surrounded by purple and black bruising, he was overwhelmed with embarrassment, at the situation, at Reid's disheveled clothing, and especially, at his reaction.

Reid groaned, wanting to rub the sore spots on his wrists, but was distracted by the pain surrounding his eyes and nose.

Nathan released Reid's wrist, stood, and walked over to the gagged and unconscious woman in the center of the room. Nathan had freed her from her bonds in chair and laid her prone in the center of the floor, so that when Reid awoke he would have a choice vantage point.

The woman awoke when she felt the weight of Nathan straddling her legs, hands traveling over her back. She tried to scream through the duct tape that had been freshly applied to her mouth but it was no use.

The muffled scream shook Reid to full wakefulness yet the dizziness kept Reid off his feet and braced woozily against the wall. "Nathan, please. You don't want to do this."

Nathan turned the woman onto her back earning another muffled scream. Reid could see the woman's eyes and they surged with that frantic electricity, like an animal that's second in line to enter the slaughter, now fully aware of its inescapable fate. "Nathan, you asked me to stop you," Reid's voice shook with pain

For Nathan, Reid's voice was like every other fantasy, in each cheap residential hotel, as he cut through their clothing and imagined Dr. Reid at his back, explaining, cajoling, and guiding his hand when he couldn't determine the next move. Nathan let out a lustful groan as he sliced through the woman's night shirt. Yes, this was just as he had imagined it. Finally, the privacy and security that would allow him to take his time and now Dr. Reid was here in the flesh. He could still have what he wanted even if it meant a lifetime of scrutiny, poking and prodding, or even, death.

Nathan pressed the blade into the woman's flank, knowing after many practiced attempts, that he could make several satisfying cuts and still keep her responsive, struggling, begging, and very much alive.

"Nathan, don't do this!" Reid begged, watching helplessly as Nathan turned the knife over in his hand, twisting the point into her side, not yet penetrating her skin. Reid tried to stand up but felt a wave of nausea and pain forcing him back onto the ground. "Nathan stop!"

Nathan plunged the knife into the woman's side, nearly climaxing as she convulsed underneath him, letting out muffled agonizing screams through the gag. The cries, the blood, and the woman's movements beneath him had Nathan struggling like an addict, desperate for that next successive hit. Without giving a moment's pause, Nathan plunged the knife into the woman again, this time just below her ribcage. This wound caused her breath to come in shallow pants, the defiant cries from behind the duct tape were reduced to defeated whimpers of pain. Nathan was on the edge of losing control, more fixated on the blood seeping from her wounds than to worrying about the movements of Dr. Reid.


	14. Chapter 14

As Nathan was lost in a revere of bloodlust, Dr. Reid braced his back against the wall and tried to stand. Reid shook as he tried to scoot himself back to a standing position using the wall as a brace at his back. Yet the pounding in his head and the dizziness that seemed to make the ground ripple underfoot led him to sliding back to a sitting position. Simultaneously, as Dr. Reid fell back to the floor, Nathan pressed his blade to the woman's still quivering throat, poised to make the fatal cut.

"Oedipus!" Reid cried out.

Nathan looked over at Reid, his eyes shining with confusion and rage like an interrupted lover caught in the act.

"Nathan," Reid launched into his rapid fire pace that was customarily reserved for academic recitation.

"You want to kill your mother, you're angry at her stupidity for leaving you when she knew what you were all along. You think you're pleasure from this has nothing to do with her but you've always been angry at her for abandoning you, leaving you to raise yourself, so you've involved yourself in her world the only way you know how, by fetishizing the very thing that drives her profession,"

Nathan's eyes burned with anger as he continued to glare in Reid's direction. "No!"

" I know you told Agent Gideon about the first time you saw a cadaver but what about the first time you saw her texts, the bodies flayed open on the page, neatly labeled, those books, those bodies, that seemed to hold greater interest for her than you ever would?"

"Shut up! Just stop!" Nathan climbed off of the woman and pointed the knife in Reid's direction.

"She left you then and she couldn't stand to look at you in the hospital, you said it yourself." Despite Nathan's outburst Reid continued to speak undeterred.

"The Oedipus complex is defined by a son growing into his sexuality by the first having sexual desires for his mother. Sex, torture, death, coldness –it's all intertwined for you. You rage against these women for being stupid, for trusting you, so you take what you want, and then you take their lives to punish them just like you wanted to punish her for trusting you."

"Stop! Stop, Dr. Reid!" Nathan took two large strides toward Dr. Reid with the knife confidently poised in his direction.

"You wrote it yourself, Nathan. You fantasized about killing a woman, a housewife, in her kitchen- tell me that isn't your mother? But it isn't really, it is what you feel your mother should be, what she failed to be. Is that why You came back here hoping to find her. Obviously, the antipsychotics did not affect your ability to perform. Tell me after you cut her; did you plan on doing that too, just to teach her a lesson?" Reid kept his eyes locked on Nathan – he couldn't have blinked if he wanted to.

Nathan closed the rest of the distance between him and Reid by grabbing Reid and pulling to his feet. As soon as Reid had come to his feet Nathan slammed him back against the wall. If Reid didn't have a concussion before, the sparkling at the corner of his vision would certainly indicate that he was suffering the acute effect of one now.

Without thinking Nathan thrust the knife forward bestowing Reid with his first identical wound to the woman on the floor – anything to make him stop. Reid's eyes began to water.

"Nathan?"

"You weren't supposed to do this!" Nathan was almost hysterical, the verbal barbs that Reid had thrown at him at struck right where they were intended. The frustration at the sheer chaos of the situation made Nathan want to destroy it all. Reid was right - he was a monster and always had been.

Nathan pressed himself against Reid, allowing himself one moment of pleasure as he felt Reid shiver underneath him. Nathan remembered how almost all of them had shivered like that after the first wound, he almost wanted to tell Dr. Reid what he would do next, and more than anything _that_ reinforced why he had to do this. He pressed his cheek to Dr. Reid's and in a whispered tone that sounded so much like the boy in the subway, "You should have let me die, Dr. Reid," Reid weakly tried to push Nathan back but Nathan held him tightly against the wall.

Nathan sheathed his blood-covered knife and pressed his hand against the doctor's fresh would, holding it harder than was necessary to staunch the bleeding. Reid's blood on his hands, the familiarity of the situation had Nathan regaining the ecstatic singular focus that he had felt so many times at this point in the kill.

"If you're theory is correct, that I get satisfaction punishing those too stupid to recognize what they let slip through their hands, what does that mean for you, Dr. Reid?" Nathan whispered, a thin sheen of menace coating his boyish tone.

Nathan had been dismissive of the first strange sounds he'd heard moments before as he shouted at Dr. Reid. Nathan had chalked the noise up to the neighborhood or strange sounds coming from the house itself. Honestly, he'd had more serious concerns, more immediate concerns, than the moans and groans from an old house or the slamming of a neighbor's car door.

It wasn't until Reid let out a long relieved breath that he sensed something was very wrong.

"Nathan Harris?"

Before Nathan turned to face the voice he knew that the gravelly tone belonged to an older male that was not Agent Gideon. Nathan pulled Reid forward from the wall and stepped behind him as a shield from the two men facing them with their guns drawn.

"Where is Agent Gideon?" Nathan asked sounding more like a disappointed child than a serial murder pressing a knife to an FBI agent's throat.

"My name is David Rossi. Agent Gideon left several years ago," Rossi took a step toward them as Morgan kept his gun trained on Nathan's head waiting for a clear shot.

Rossi took one look at Reid; hair a mess, shirt mostly unbuttoned, and a growing red stain on the lower left side of his abdomen – that was enough for Rossi to holster his weapon and hold his hands out in mock surrender.

"I read your last letter, Nathan – the one you never got to return to and finish. You seemed rather impressed with your work. I've seen what you're finished work looks like and it is too bad that Agent Gideon couldn't have shared in it as well," Rossi couldn't resist the dig. Gideon should have been concerned with more than just his own happy ending and after being briefed on the case, on Nathan's history, Rossi's distaste for the man couldn't have become anymore intense.

"Where is he? Where is Agent Gideon?" Nathan asked almost quizzically.

"He's no longer with the Bureau, "Rossi moved closer but froze as Nathan forced the blade tighter against Reid's throat. "Dr. Reid is injured. We need to get him help. I know you don't want to hurt him, son. Let him come with us. Let him go." Rossi kept an even and sympathetic tone as he tried to coax Nathan into releasing Reid or at least giving Morgan a clear shot.

"Give Dr. Reid to me, Nathan, and he, Agent Morgan, and I will all leave here. We will give you your three days." Rossi stepped out of Morgan's line of sight, inching closer to Spencer, poised to pull him out of Nathan's grasp.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Reid." Nathan whispered, again in that familiar boyish tone that seemed to crack at the end. Nathan pulled back on the knife in an exaggerated gesture as if to stab Dr. Reid in the side of the neck.

The following moments flowed with an odd synchronicity; Nathan's raised arm, Rossi's sharp pull on Reid's arm, and the explosion of sound, sending Reid into Rossi's arms, and Nathan crumbling to the floor.

Derek moved perfunctorily to Nathan's throat to confirm what he'd already knew, Nathan was dead. Derek kicked the knife from Nathan's hand not even attempting to hide his disgust as he radioed the signal of 'all clear' for the medics and coroner to move in.

The woman was loaded on to the ambulance in a display of hope that her faint vital signs would sustain her long enough to reach a hospital. Reid was taken in a second ambulance, certain to recover. His last recollection of the day's events was the darkness of the body bag consuming Nathan and that heart-wrenching zip that meant, finally, things had come to an end.


	15. Chapter 15

Reid had weathered his injuries well. Morgan, Garcia, Emily, and JJ all came by in their own time to talk, shame, love, and chastise Reid. Though not even Garcia, would let a word slip about Aaron Hotchner. For profilers, they were failing miserably at concealing that all was not well back at the office. It wasn't until Dave Rossi came by that Reid began to get an idea of what exactly was facing him back at the FBI.

"He was beside himself."

Reid tried not regurgitate the Jell-o he had just swallowed, instead coughing violently after he swallowed. After a sip of water, Reid cringed in pain, the coughing aggravating his repaired stab wound.

"Excuse me?" Reid croaked out, rubbing and then stretching away from the pain.

"I hadn't seen him like that in a long time," Rossi didn't need to say what Reid could fill in. _Aaron hadn't looked so helpless, been so angry, nor tried so hard to contain himself, since Hailey's life had been on the line._

Reid couldn't accept it, wasn't willing to accept that he had inflicted that kind of pain on anyone. Nathan's death weighing on his conscience, that and the demanding ache in his side were enough to keep him battling the cravings for the demon Dilaudid. Reid couldn't add Hotch's disappointment and pain to that too.

Reid sighed and looked away from Rossi. "No. No, I know he was worried. I know I put myself in harm's way and I risked my life to save someone that," Reid choked back the emotion threatening to spill from his eyes and lips. Reid could feel Nathan crumpling away from him, feel Nathan bleeding into Penelope's scarves as he kept him pinned, trying to stop the life from slipping from him.

"Someone that I shouldn't have saved in the first place," Reid stared at Rossi, his eyes flashing in a challenge. _Go ahead, tell me that I am wrong._

Rossi continued undeterred by Reid's denial. "He told me when you were held hostage the first time," Rossi shook his head at that and massaged Reid's gown-covered shoulder, trying to distract from the absurdity and tragedy of that statement. "He told me that the tip that freed you was naming him as the next victim."

"Classic narcissist," Reid muttered allowing a small smile to return to his lips as he remembered seeing Hotch running toward him, with the rest of team, in that godforsaken place. Reid's faint happiness over that memory was short-lived as another recollection came to mind; Hotch turning away from Reid, avoiding the site of him, as he was wheeled from the house and into the ambulance.

Rossi's touch became less insistent until it was just a comforting hand lying on his shoulder. "He won't admit it but I think he is scared to see you," Rossi took to kneading Reid's tensing shoulders again. "He'll try to cover it up with protocol and leveling of consequences that will never come to be, but in the end, Reid you know as well as I do, if he'd known about the letters, about any of it, he would have never let you go."

_Just sit in the office while they finish the job I couldn't - that I wouldn't. Just relax, sit back, and let you kill him._

Reid knew it was the pain, the cravings, and the stress that were conjuring up all of these thoughts. He just hoped they'd be gone by the time he was due to see Aaron Hotchner.

After drifting into light conversation about up-coming recruitment tours and guest lectures, Rossi said his goodbyes, and left. That night as Reid lingered in a nightmare he felt those strong, warm hands pulling him back. Reid fought. He fought to hold onto Nathan. He couldn't let go. He woke himself up with a yell as he fought to shrug off those invisible and insistent hands.

#=#=#=#=#=#

Garcia had returned Reid to his apartment two afternoons later. After a quick shower and changing into the first thing he could find, Reid grabbed his bag and headed out the door to the FBI.

JJ had let him know as soon as they had returned to D.C. from the latest case. Reid waited until he was sure that the team members would be gone from the office. "Hotch," JJ said, failing to keep her voice reminiscent of any kind neutrality," will still be in his office completing paperwork and checking individual action reports. You know he needs to see you."

#=#=#=#=#=#

Reid took a deep breath and opened the door. Realistically, he mused, this should be the easiest part of the whole Nathan chapter of the BAU. Hotch seeing him safe and in one piece should not be an occasion for fear, he told himself, but Reid's palms sweated nonetheless.

Hotch's eyes seemed already fixed in the direction of the door as soon as it opened, two dark, consuming, crosshairs that had him caught. Hotch's gaze was stony and cold.

"Sir?" Reid said, cursing himself when it came out sounding like a shiver.

"Dr. Reid, please sit down." Hotch gestured to the low-backed leather chairs in front of his desk. His tone was that of an executioner.

Hotch wanted to shake off the feelings, the overwhelming emotions, and just be happy that Reid was safe. However, past the sadness and helpless anxiety, Hotch felt irrationally angry. This was one time that he was happy to lean on policy to deliver the deserved retribution – the stinging slap that Reid deserved in return for the blow he had landed to the team by almost getting himself vivisected.

Hotch fixed Reid with an inscrutable stare as he seamlessly moved a stack of folders to reveal a pre-printed letter, already baring Aaron Hotchner's signature.

"You have two choices, Reid. You can go before a review panel, constructed of your superiors, and risk the verdict they reach – keeping in mind that their verdict can call for the compensation to the Bureau for misallocated resources due to your actions," Hotch cleared his throat sharply before continuing – relishing the tears obviously threatening to fall at the corners of Reid's eyes.

Good, Hotch thought, you can cry for both of us.

Hotch continued, "If these fines cannot be paid, the loss can be compensated through time served in a federal facility."

Reid sniffled and fought to keep eye contact with Hotch. Feeling a tear fall as the next thought hit him: _I could never stare someone down – I'm a blinker._ Reid could feel the knife, like a phantom limb, still digging into his side. He thought of Hotch suffering alone through the same pain. Hotch knew what Nathan was doing to Reid, he knew what Reid was feeling, how Reid was hurting, and because of Reid, he was powerless to help him.

Reid nodded, feeling deserving of what was about to be leveled against him.

"Or," Hotch said – no longer able to watch Reid squirm in his chair as he fought back discomfort and tears. "Or you can tender your resignation to me. Now. I will deal with Strauss and it is at the Bureau's discretion if they try and recover the loss but I have assurances that if you resign that will not be an option that receives consideration." The more formulaic Hotch could sound the better he felt. It was as if he was negotiating contract law rather than dismissing a huge asset to the Bureau and a beloved...well, he could leave it at that and it would be true enough. A beloved friend, he corrected.

Reid took a deep breath. "Okay," He reached across the table and took the letter in his hands. "I'll sign it."

Reid stared at the impersonal words, the policy quotations, and Hotch's signature, all of it danced on the page before him. He could see Gideon abandoning his badge and gun in the middle of nowhere and hitting the road in pursuit of happiness. He thought of the other team members and all of the reasons and situations that would have put them in front of a similar choice. Reid could hear his own heartfelt confession in his ear, _I'm struggling._ Yes, yes he was.

Reid was not going to sit there and sniffle and struggle in front of Hotch. Suddenly, Reid too felt anger bubbling up in him as he considered the unfairness of the policy Aaron was all too happy to fall in behind.

"I can understand why the Bureau would want to dismiss their agent with highest IQ , not to mention an agent who risked their life to successfully rescue a hostage from a serial killer at-large. So the Bureau's policies can let Elle get away with murder but I might go to prison for saving a woman's life? " Reid was leaning forward in his chair and his voice was rising in pitch to match his indignation, "No wonder Gideon just walked out."

Before Reid could take another breath, Aaron was out of his chair and forcing Reid's chair to face him as he hovered menacingly over Reid. Aaron's hands held each armrest in an unrelenting grip, "You correspond with a known murderer, a murderer who confessed to you, and now you want a medal?" Hotch's voice was a slow deep broil of anger.

"Fine," Reid spat out overwhelmed by the sudden claustrophobia, "I'm sick of being in this position. Let me up. I signed your damn paper." Reid was shaking as he put his hands on Hotch's shoulders and gave a futile push. Hotch moved in closer, until their foreheads were nearly touching.

Hotch still was not satisfied, he still felt the pain of worry, the anxiety, and Reid's mention of his victimhood at Nathan's hands only increased the heat on a situation on the verge of boiling over.

"Sick of being in the situation? Yet there has not been a time where you haven't hand-delivered yourself into the situation, now is no exception." Hotch meant for his words to cut. He was pleased by Reid's shaky intake of breath.

"You know, after he knocked me unconscious, this is how I woke up. He was hovering over me, threatening me," Reid looked back at Hotch, his eyes filled with sadness and anger. "All you're missing is the knife."

Reid knew it was the wrong thing to say, it wasn't fair to make that comparison, not to Hotch, not ever. Reid didn't know if it was conscience, regret, or the fear surging through him that brought on the instantaneous outpouring of tears. Hotch pulled Reid up quickly before either had time to think, or before Reid could tense with anticipated pain, Hotch gathered Reid up in to his arms and held him close until Reid winced involuntarily, Hotch immediately loosened his hold but still kept Reid firmly in his arms. Hotch buried his head against Reid's shoulder, "I'm sorry," Hotch murmured ruefully, over and over as he listened to Reid's sobs gently subside. Reid rested his head on Hotch's shoulder, pressing his tear-moistened cheek against the older man. Unexpectedly, Reid wrapped his arms around Hotch and held him into the embrace.

The first thing Hotch noticed was the smell of Reid's hair. He nuzzled Reid's neck, taking in a deep breath, filling his lungs with Reid's scent. Hotch ran his hand through Reid's damp hair, exhaling a warm breath against Reid's ear. What Hotch had to say, well, he just couldn't meet Reid's eyes, so instead he busied himself laying kisses along Reid's cheek and jaw line as he spoke, "I know you couldn't have trusted me because I know I wouldn't have let you go,"

Hotch pressed his lips into the hollow of Reid's neck, "I know I could have lost you. I know," Hotch's voice shook as he whispered these next broken words into Reid's ear. "I know how much it hurt."

When their eyes finally met, Reid tried to duck away from Hotch's gaze but both of the older man's hands came to cup Reid's face, holding him to meet Hotch's eyes, "I know you kept your head and that's what kept you alive. I've always been able to trust that you'll do that, Reid. I know you're the one on my team that can wield empathy and intellect just as stealthily and effectively as any other defense. "Hotch looked gravely into the younger man's eyes, "I know I can't do this without you."

Before Reid could answer Hotch's lips met his in a sweet and tender kiss. For Reid, each questioning and need-filled kiss just reaffirmed that he was not the only one frightened and feeling dizzyingly out of control as their lips met. Reid smiled against Hotch's mouth, returning the embrace, pressing himself as close as he could, not deterred by the pain of his wound. "I'm sorry, Aaron." Reid breathed as Aaron pulled back to examine the reality of the situation.

Aaron stopped to look at Reid; his mouth pink and swollen from the heated kiss, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes shining from the recently shed tears. Aaron felt a twinge of guilt as he admired the beauty resulting from Spencer's distress.

Aaron wordlessly began removing Spencer's jacket and bag, dropping them both in the neighboring chair. He didn't want to frighten him or later suspect that Reid had been coerced, that the fear had led him to consent to this, that this was a delayed reaction to Nathan's sadism. Hotch's hands returned to Reid's side, running up Reid's back, pulling him close again and into a more passionate kiss.

"Don't do that again, please. Not because I'll fire you or because you could very well face harsh consequences but because you'll kill me." Hotch closed his eyes briefly, possibly chasing away the imagine of the crime scene he expected to find. What mattered now was that Reid was here. Hotch kissed along Reid's neck, unbuttoning his collar – Reid stiffened and pulled back.

Hotch didn't need to ask, he'd just been combing through the case report. He knew how they found Reid, what Nathan wanted, and what Reid must have experienced without the agents there - what was not in the report.

Hotch took Reid's hands in his, guiding them to his necktie instead. Reid shook with clumsiness and arousal as he successfully removed Hotch's tie and with fumbling hands unbuttoned the first three buttons of his collar and shirt.

Hotch kept his hands busy working the fabric of Reid's shirt. Hotch clutched and kneaded the fabric of Reid's shirt, struggling to maintain his hold on the situation, not to rush forward and take what he wanted. Hotch's repetitive grasps had worked Reid's shirt free of his waistband. Hotch held onto Reid's eyes as his warm hands slowly made their way up and under Reid's shirt. Reid laid his head on Hotch's shoulder as Hotch's hand passed carefully over the gauze bandage covering Reid's wound.

Reid couldn't focus, their hands blurred together; an open-palmed hand cupping the back of Hotch's head, keeping his lips close, not trusting that, if this stopped, Reid wouldn't gather up his clothes and flee. The insistent pain and the distraction of Hotch's hand against his exposed skin was enough to chase Nathan from Reid's thoughts. All the terms that had brought Reid here – whimpering helplessly, impatiently as his hands roamed the length of Aaron's body – the fear was temporarily forgotten.

When Reid hesitated, Hotch was right there to draw him back in, nipping his bottom lip, licking teasingly along his mouth. He took a step back and looked at Reid, lost in the moment, relinquishing himself so trustingly after all that he'd been through. Aaron felt a smile play at his lips before he hooked his fingers into the belt loops of Spencer's slacks and pulled him back into his arms. Hotch took a second step back with Reid in his arms and stopped when he felt the end of his desk at the back of his thighs.

Hotch had to put a little distance between he and Reid. Reid had busied himself with the undoing of buttons, letting out a deep nervous sigh every time he risked moving closer, to Hotch, to the man he wanted.

Aaron brought his hands to Reid's face once more to hold his attention, "I want you," Aaron whispered, running his fingertips along Reid's cheek. Reid looked away, flushing pink, and then looked back up at Hotch. Reid moved closer until they were pressed tightly together, Reid had moved so that Hotch's left leg was now enclosed by either of Reid's lithe limbs. Hotch looked away from Spencer, smirking at his forwardness and the ridiculously paternal response he was about to give, "You're really in enough trouble already." Hotch said kissing the corner of Spencer's mouth.

Reid went wide-eyed and nodded with understanding all the while moving his hips teasingly, as the older man spoke. "Reid," Aaron tried to adopt a voice of authority but failed when Spencer shifted closer grazing his arousal, Aaron's voice cracked, "Reid, let's call it a night," Hotch groaned as Reid held onto him with those curious wide eyes that feigned obedience so well. The look on Reid's face gave no hint of the fact that he'd increased his pace, blatantly seeking out Hotch's touch, and their shared pleasure. Reid's sudden mischievous demeanor had Aaron scrambling for control. One slide of Reid's hips, pressing against him, pulling in flush with his body, Reid's involuntary shivers in his arms, the stifled moans that they both shared; Hotch had to stop this and he knew if he let Reid continue for a moment longer it wouldn't stop.

"I think we should go," Hotch pulled back and caught Reid by the shoulders.

"Okay," Reid said moving forward, continuing the tease, and trying to suppress a smile as Aaron fought for his standard cool control as his hips twitched involuntarily trying to sustain Spencer's contact.

"Reid, stop." Aaron said applying a little more pressure to Reid's shoulders.

Reid's gaze snapped up to meet Aaron's face and the misinterpretation was obvious. Aaron kissed Reid before he could begin to speak, to apologize, or to argue. "Let me take you home?" Hotch offered kissing a warm trail down Spencer's cheek.

Reid nodded and gathered up his bags. Spencer smiled when Hotch unexpectedly draped his arm around Reid's shoulders as they walked to the elevators. "If you're hungry, I know a great Chinese place..and they have forks."


End file.
